The  Toll  of  the  Sands 

A  Story  of  Love  and  Adventure  in  the  Great  Gold 
Rush  into  the  Death  Valley  Country 


NOTE  TO  THIRD  EDITION  BY  JUDGE 
BEN  B.  LINDSEY 

When  the  juvenile  court  was  first  organized  Paul 
De  Laney  was  the  courthouse  reporter  for  a  leading 
Denver  newspaper.  In  those  early  days  of  the  court 
the  doors  of  my  chambers,  in  the  most  secret  exam 
inations,  were  never  closed  to  Mr.  De  Laney.  He 
never  published  the  things  that  should  not  be  pub 
lished,  and  those  matters  that  should  be  published  that 
would  help  the  young  court  in  those  days,  and  the 
young  who  were  so  unfortunate  as  to  be  the  subject 
of  the  court,  he  handled  with  a  delicacy  and  a  truth 
fulness  that  were  of  much  aid  to  the  court  and 
humanity. 

When  the  first  editions  of  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 
were  issued  I  was  absent  from  Denver  and  did  not 
get  to  see  a  copy  until  several  days  after  the  publica 
tion,  but  I  felt  that  Mr.  De  Laney  would  handle  the 
subject  embodied  in  a  Western  novel  in  the  proper 
manner  and  in  the  proper  spirit.  My  wife  and  I  have 
since  read  the  novel  and  we  find  it  one,  not  only  true  to 
the  West  and  the  Western  type  of  life,  but  one  full 
of  genuine  interest  from  the  first  to  the  closing  para 
graph.  It  is  a  plain  story  of  the  great  West  that  will 
live. 

BEN  B.  LINDSEY. 

Denver,  Colorado,  February  20,  1920. 


The  Toll  of  the  Sands 


By 

PAUL  DE  LANEY 


Author  of 

"The  Lord  of  the  Desert,"  "Toilers  of  the  Columbia," 
"  The  Sheepherder,"     "  Death  Valley  Scotty," 
"Jayhawkers  of  '49."  Serial  Stories  Pub 
lished  in  Pacific  Coast  Periodicals 


THIRD  EDITION 


Illustrated  by 

PAUL  GREGG 


Denver 
The  Smith-Brooks  Printing  Company 


COPYRIGHT    1919 
BY  PAUL  DE  LANEY 

ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 
PRINTED  FEBRUARY  20.  1920 


To  Kathryn 


My  dear  little  wife,  who  shared  with 
me  the  pleasures  and  inconveniences 
incidental  to  our  honeymoon  spent 
on  the  border  of  Death  Valley  in  just 
such  a  mining  camp  as  is  described 
in  this  story. 


M189SO 


Introductory 


Paul  De  Laney  is  no  swivel  chair  author 
of  the  West  with  a  fiction  factory  at  Green- 
loich  Village.  He  telongs  to  the  Southwest. 
It  is  in  his  Wood.  He  was  part  of  the  rough- 
and-tumble  frontier  life  of  which  he  writes. 
He  knows  the  dry  and  arid  land  where  the 
hot  winds  l)low  and  the  dust  devils  whirl. 
For  years  he  lived  the  life  whereof  he  writes 
with  such  truth  and  enthusiasm.  The  re 
sult  is  a  picture  of  the  Nevada  desert — the 
desert  of  gray  sage,  of  greasewood,  of  whirl 
ing  dust  and  blinding  heat — that  makes  the 
blood  sting  and  the  imagination  run  real. 
Its  atmosphere  is  genuine,  its  characters 
stand  out  life-like  and  vivid.  He  writes 
with  conviction  because  the  call  of  the  desert 
has  been  burnt  into  him  during  the  years 
in  the  frontier  camps  that  claimed  his  early 
manhood.  His  story  is  a  tale  of  hot  and 
easy  youth.  The  prospector,  the  gambler, 
the  wildcatter,  the  "bad  man,"  the  honest 
miner;  all  of  these  walk  with  amazing  vigor 
through  the  pages  of  "The  Toll  of  the  Sands" 
This  is  a  tale  for  men,  but  it  is  one  that 
women  too  will  read  eagerly,  for  the  love 
story  which  runs  like  a  fine  thread  through 
the  novel  makes  its  own  charming  appeal  to 
those  who  want  their  adventure  to  lead 
toward  the  golden  gates  of  love. 

WILLIAM  MACLEOD  RAINE. 

Denver,  Colorado, 
December  20,  1919. 


CONTENTS. 

Chapter  Page 

I.     IN  DEFENSE  OF  A  WOMAN 9 

II.     OFF  FOR  DEATH  VALLEY 23 

III.  CAST  IN  BY  THE  SANDS 36 

IV.  THE  DEVIL  IN  THE  MAN 44 

V.     THE  DEVIL  BREAKS  OUT 55 

VI.  THE  RUSH 64 

VII.  THE  WIDENING  OF  THE  GULF 76 

VIII.  VISIONS  OF  MOKAVA 90 

IX.  WHAT  FLUNKEY  OVERHEARD 98 

X.  MR.  HORATIO  STALLINGS 107 

XL  MRS.  MOORING  AND  HER  DAUGHTER 

ARRIVE   . 115 

XII.  ROBERT  RAY  MEETS  RUBY  MOORING.  .  127 

XIII.  A  TRIBAL  LEGEND 139 

XIV.  OSTRACIZED 148 

XV.  AN  ENTERTAINMENT  AND  A  FIGHT.  .  .  159 

XVI.     THE  FLEECING  OF  MOKAVA 175 

XVII.     STALLINGS  AND  RAY  RECEIVE 

LETTERS   186 

XVIII.     RAY  BREAKS  BAD  NEWS  AND 

RECEIVES  WORSE 197 

XIX.     A  SHOT  FROM  THE  DARK 207 

XX.     ROBERT  RAY  ARRESTED.  .  .  .216 


Chapter  Page 

XXL     "DEATH  VALLEY  OR  DEATH" 227 

XXII.  SHADOWED  BY  A  MAN  WITH  A  GUN.  .239 

XXIII.  A  NOTE  AND  A  PICTURE .255 

XXIV.  THE  TRIAL  OF  RAY  AND  MOKAVA 266 

XXV.  FLOTSAM  AND  JETSAM  OF  THE  SANDS.  .  274 

XXVI.     RAY  SEEKS  MOKAVA 282 

XXVII.     THE  LAND  OF  FIRE 291 

XXVIII.  DISCLOSURES  OF  Two  WRITINGS  .....  300 

XXIX.     THE  PROSPECTOR •  • 313 

XXX.     REV.  HENRY  GWYNNE 324 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Page 

(Frontispiece)  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 281 

"Is  he  dead?"  gasped  the  young  woman,  as  she 
rushed  from  the  "lounge  and  unconsciously 
grasped  Ray's  hand 16 

"Yours,  Robert!"  she  replied,  as  he  drew  her 
closer  to  him  and  gave  her  a  long,  parting  kiss  285 

"It  is  Robert,  Father— Robert  Ray!"  she  ex 
claimed  319 


The  Toll  of  the  Sands 


CHAPTER  I      ••*•;•'»•  v    '•'' 

IN  DEFENSE  OF  A  WOMAN 

ROBERT  RAY  came  out  of  a  water-front  res 
taurant.  He  paused  on  the  sidewalk.  A  crude 
sign  over  a  low  stairway  caught  his  eye.  It 
bore  the  information  that  a  room  was  for  rent  up 
stairs,  and  that  the  price  was  fifty  cents.  It  was 
early,  but  he  was  tired — tired  as  a  strong,  athletic 
young  man  ever  gets.  He  had  scaled  the  most  rugged 
peaks  of  the  Rockies  and  trained  and  won  honors  in 
the  athletic  sports  of  a  mining  school  in  Colorado, 
but  one  day  in  San  Francisco  had  fitted  him  for  an 
early  bed — his  feet  were  not  accustomed  to  the  limit 
less  streets  and  their  countless  curves  and  grades. 

Looking  at  the  sign  for  a  moment  he  entered  the 
hole-like  opening  below  it.  At  the  head  of  the  dark 
stairway  he  found  an  empty  hall  lighted  by  a  smoky 
lamp.  There  was  no  call-bell.  The  glimmer  of  a 
dull  light  through  a  dusty  transom  was  the  only  sign 
of  occupancy.  He  went  to  the  door  and  knocked. 
It  was  opened  cautiously  by  a  young  woman  who 
stood  timidly,  half-concealed  behind  it.  She  held  an 


io  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

old-fashioned   lamp   in   one  hand,   while  she  gripped 
the  doorknob  impulsively  with  the  other. 

"Beg  your  pardon/'  he  faltered  with  cap  in  hand, 
"but  I  noticed  downstairs  that  there  is  a  room  for 
rent?" 

"The  ;l«wi<ilady  is  not  here,"  came  in  modest  tones. 
"•"  "Oh;"  f  :Vemember !  She  left  the  key  to  the  next 
.*:  -j{cjojni:whk:ji«is  fpr  rent,  with  mother;  and  mother  and 
*  fatner  "are*  but,  'tut  I  will  show  you  the  room." 

"I  shall  thank  you,  as  I  am  pretty  tired,  and  wish 
to  catch  an  early  morning  boat,"  he  replied. 

The  young  woman — she  was  not  over  twenty,  and 
Robert  Ray  thought  he  had  never  seen  one  prettier 
—brought  a  key  and  unlocked  the  door.  She  lighted  a 
lamp  which  sat  on  a  rickety  table  near  the  bed,  and 
looked  at  Ray  for  his  approval  of  the  room.  It  was 
satisfactory  and  he  paid  the  price  required.  He  noticed 
a  tinge  of  red  on  her  cheeks  as  she  thanked  him  for 
the  money  and  closed  the  door  behind  her. 

Ray  took  off  his  coat  and  sat  down  to  meditate  over 
the  experiences  of  the  day  a  few  minutes  before  going 
to  bed.  He  leaned  back  in  the  unsteady  chair,  pulled 
his  cap  down  over  his  eyes  and  was  soon  in  dream- 
thought.  The  real  purpose  of  his  trip  had  been  a 
failure,  but  it  was  not  far  off  the  route  to  the  Nevada 
gold  fields,  and  anyway,  he  had  visited  the  Golden 
Gate,  so  christened  by  the  gold-seekers  of  '49.  Would 
the  trail  from  this  point  lead  him  to  fortune  or  fail 
ure?  Then  the  vision  of  the  pretty  girl  rose  before 
him,  and  optimistic  youth  interpreted  it  as  a  good 
omen. 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  n 

She  had  seemed  to  be  afraid?  Girls  in  cheap  room 
ing  houses  were  usually  the  reverse.  But  she  had 
trembled  when  she  first  answered  his  call  at  the  door, 
and  when  he  gave  her  the  money  she  seemed  embar 
rassed.  She  was  a  novice,  at  least  as  a  landlady,  he 
concluded. 

Ray  was  still  musing  when  he  heard  a  heavy  foot 
step  in  the  hall.  Then  it  alternated  between  a  tip 
toe  sound  and  a  heavier  tread.  Then  there  was  a  suc 
cession  of  irregular  taps  on  the  door  next  to  his.  A 
heavier  rap  followed.  Receiving  no  response,  the  rap 
was  repeated  impatiently.  Ray  leaned  forward  tensely 
in  his  chair.  Blows  that  shook  the  wall  followed.  The 
door  opened  cautiously. 

"Father  is  not  here,"  came  the  trembling  voice  of 
the  girl. 

"I  know  it,"  replied  a  man  in  a  hoarse  voice. 

"Neither  is  mother,"  explained  the  girl  in  a  more 
frightened  tone. 

"I  know  that,  too — that  is  why  I  came!"  replied 
the  man,  confidently. 

The  girl  attempted  to  close  the  door,  but  a  hand 
or  foot  held  it  ajar.  Then  it  began  to  give  way.  The 
lighter  feet  were  slipping  on  the  floor. 

Ray  leaped  to  his  feet. 

"Do  not  come  in  until  father  and  mother  return 
— they  will  soon  be  here,"  pleaded  the  girl. 

There  was  no  reply,  but  the  door  was  being  forced. 

"Go — please  go !"  begged  the  girl. 

The  door  was  gradually  yielding. 


12  THE  TOLIv  OF  THE  SANDS 

"Why  doesn't  she  call — she  knows  I  am  here?"  mut 
tered  Ray. 

The  resistance  at  the  door  gave  way  and  a  scuffle 
followed  in  the  room.  A  chair  toppled  over,  and  Ray 
rushed  out  into  the  hall.  The  door  to  the  other  room 
had  been  closed,  but  the  light  still  shone  over  the  tran 
som.  A  suppressed  shriek  reached  Ray's  ears  and 
he  turned  the  knob  and  entered  the  room.  A  big 
athletic  fellow  was  standing  with  his  back  to  the  door, 
holding  in  his  arms  like  a  vise  the  young  woman  from 
whom  Ray  had  rented  the  room.  She  was  resisting 
desperately. 

Ray  leaped  at  the  man  and  tore  his  big  arms  like 
a  garment  from  about  the  girl.  She  reeled,  dazed 
and  exhausted,  and  settled  down  on  a  lounge.  The 
big  fellow  turned  upon  Ray  with  a  puzzled  glare. 
His  great  hands  relaxed  for  a  moment  and  his  eyes 
were  blinking  as  if  suddenly  awakened. 

"Who  invited  you  into  this?"  asked  the  ruffian. 

"The  defense  of  the  weak,"  replied  Ray,  oblivious 
of  the  dramatic  sound  of  his  words. 

"Then  run  along  about  your  own  business — you 
doubtless  heard  about  the  fellow  who  made  a  fortune 
tending  to  his  own  affairs  ?"  warned  the  fellow,  mock 
ingly. 

"I  shall  remain  here  until  you  leave,  or  the  young 
lady  tells  me  to  go,"  replied  Ray. 

"No,  you  will  go  without  delay — now!"  boasted 
the  bully,  quietly  preparing  for  the  attack.  His  eyes 
were  now  as  wide  open  as  the  narrow  slits  which 
encircled  them  would  permit,  and  he  steadied  his  big 


THE  TOUv  OF  THE  SANDS  13 

form  for  action.  The  thickness  of  his  speech  still 
indicated  the  effects  of  drink. 

"Fighting  is  a  favorite  pastime  of  mine,"  he  con 
tinued,  removing  his  coat.  "This  young  cat  scratched 
me  and  her  claws  are  irritating.  It  will  be  a  relief 
to  exercise  my  muscles  a  little,  and  at  the  same  time 
do  the  community  a  service  by  punishing  a  buttinsky 
who  seems  to  be  looking  for  trouble  that  don't  belong 
to  him,"  coolly  rolling  up  his  sleeves  as  if  about  to 
perform  an  ordinary  chore. 

It  was  unfortunate  for  the  big  fellow  that  Ray's 
eyes  were  partially  concealed  by  his  cap.  Their  old 
steel  gray  was  returning.  It  was  a  bad  sign  for 
an  antagonist.  Those  who  knew  Ray  always  watched 
his  eyes.  His  friends  had  often  remarked  that  there 
was  a  certain  point  when  Ray  was  angry  at  which  his 
eyes  emitted  white  sparks.  At  that  time,  they  con 
tended,  it  was  too  late  to  quit  and  useless  to  continue 
a  physical  contest  with  him. 

But  he  had  cooled  in  a  measure  after  releasing  the 
girl  from  the  bully,  and  this  had  misled  the  big  fel 
low.  He  had  interpreted  the  placid  expression  on  the 
young  man's  face  as  an  evidence  of  timidity,  and 
thought  that  when  Ray  saw  his  brawny  arms  and 
big  shoulders  stripped  for  action  he  would  leave.  But 
these  had  a  different  effect  on  Ray.  The  big  hands 
had  just  been  used  against  the  helpless  little  woman 
lying  over  on  the  lounge. 

But  why  this  fight?  meditated  Ray.  He  saw  from 
the  confident  air  of  the  big  fellow  that  it  would 
be  difficult  to  avoid,  if  Ray  remained.  Should  he 


i4  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

now  walk  out  and  leave  the  ruffian  master  of  a  situa 
tion  of  which  Ray  could  only  guess?  He  glanced 
again  at  the  young  woman.  She  was  now  crying. 
The  big  fellow  started  toward  Ray,  slowly  but  confi 
dently,  as  if  about  to  eject  a  common  intruder. 

Ray  heard  a  noise  at  the  lounge.  He  glanced  in 
that  direction.  The  young  woman  had  risen.  There 
was  alarm  in  her  face.  Her  hands  were  raised  toward 
them.  The  big  fellow  quickened  his  step.  The  girl 
rushed  between  them.  Ray's  antagonist  stopped  sud 
denly  and  shoved  the  girl  aside  with  an  oath.  Then 
he  struck  at  Ray  with  a  swinging  blow.  Ray  ducked, 
caught  him  with  a  stinging  cut  on  the  cheek,  and  then 
took  the  girl  gently  by  the  shoulders  and  seated  her 
on  the  lounge. 

"Keep  out  of  the  way,  young  lady — you  might  get 
hurt,"  cautioned  Ray.  "Permit  me  to  settle  this  mat 
ter  alone  with  him,"  continued  Ray,  returning  to 
the  fray  with  a  step  as  light  as  that  of  a  panther. 

Ray's  cool  gallantry  in  seating  the  girl  increased 
the  fury  of  the  big  fellow.  A  scowl  passed  over  his 
dark  features  as  he  advanced  again.  Ray  again 
glanced  at  the  girl.  She  was  looking  on  with  terror. 

"Say,  this  is  no  place  to  continue  this  brawl,"  he 
ventured,  even  while  his  antagonist  was  about  to 
spring  at  him.  "Let  us  leave  this  room.  I  will  go 
with  you  anywhere  and  fight — if  fight  you  must! 
That  young  woman  should  not  witness  any  more  ruf 
fianism  tonight." 

"Then   go— get !"   scoffed   the  bully.      "Or   in   the 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  15 

next  minute  or  so  they'll  have  to  cart  you  out — I'm 
at  home  here  and  you  are  the  buttinsky." 

"I  shall  not  leave  until  she  says  so,"  replied  Ray, 
looking  at  the  girl  for  approval. 

'Take  that!"  growled  the  big  fellow,  rushing  at 
Ray  and  attempting  a  foul  blow. 

Ray  darted  aside  like  a  flash  and  struck  him  on  the 
cheek  as  he  passed. 

"Dirty  pup !"  roared  the  big  man,  losing  all  self- 
control  as  he  attacked  again. 

Ray  ducked  his  head  and  leaped  aside  like  a  tiger, 
his  eyes  flashing  the  old  steel  gray.  The  big  fellow 
now  came  at  him  like  an  avalanche.  Ray  crouched  for 
an  instant.  It  was  a  position  peculiarly  his  own.  His 
poise  was  so  deceptive  that  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye 
he  could  change  his  position  and  strike  from  a  direc 
tion  entirely  contrary  to  that  expected  by  an  adver 
sary,  and  the  blow  came  with  a  force  and  accuracy 
that  was  irresistible.  The  big  fellow's  fist  had  passed 
wild  above  Ray's  head.  Ray  landed  at  a  point  under 
the  fellow's  jaw.  It  was  as  effective  as  it  was  scien 
tific.  The  ruffian  straightened  and  quivered  for  a 
second,  like  an  animal  shot  through  the  heart.  Then 
he  fell,  top-heavy,  his  head  striking  the  corner  of  the 
lounge,  near  where  the  young  woman  was  sitting. 
There  was  a  sharp  sound,  as  if  bone  and  metal  had 
come  in  contact,  and  the  big  form  stretched  limp  on 
the  floor! 

Ray  leaned  over  the  bulky  body  and  looked  into 
the  glassy  eyes.  Then  he  felt  the  pulse  of  the  hairy 


16  THE  TOIvL  OF  THE  bANDS 

wrist.  A  blank  expression  came  over  the  young  man's 
face. 

"Is  he  dead?"  gasped  the  young  woman,  as  she 
rushed  from  the  lounge  and  unconsciously  grasped 
Ray's  hand. 

"I — I — I  hope  not,"  he  replied  almost  in  a  whisper. 

"But  you  are  not  to  blame — you  did  it  all  for  me!" 
she  said  with  returning  strength.  "I  will  take  all 
responsibility — no  one  will  know  you  were  here — 
leave — run — I'll  say  he  came  here  drunk  and  fell — 
anything  to  shield  you — it  is  justifiable." 

Ray  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  in  silence.  Could 
one  so  young  and  innocent-looking  tell  a  falsehood — 
concoct  a  deliberate  lie  on  the  impulse?  Was  the  lie 
natural  with  women,  as  he  had  heard  older  men  say? 
But  the  man  had  attacked  her.  She  was  alone.  Ray 
had  come  to  her  rescue,  and  then  had  defended  him 
self.  She  was  moved  by  the  impulse  of  gratitude. 
The  law  of  nature  and  the  law  of  the  land  was  with 
him.  But  how  would  he  extricate  himself?  Why  did 
the  fellow  come  to  the  room — possibly  he  had  the 
right  there?  No,  that  could  not  be!  Such  a  man 
and  such  a  woman  could  have  no  interest  in  com 
mon.  Her  honor  had  been  at  stake.  Her  good  name 
was  doubtless  now  involved? 

"I  have  it,"  said  Ray,  seizing  the  big  form  by  the 
shoulders  and  dragging  it  to  the  hall  and  into  his  own 
room.  The  girl  brought  the  fellow's  hat  and  laid  it 
near  his  head  as  Ray  straightened  out  the  body.  Ray 
then  grabbed  his  own  coat  and  the  two  left  the  room. 
Ray  then  locked  the  body  in  and  threw  the  key  over 


THERE  WAS  A    SHARP  SOUND   AS  IF  BONE  AND   METAL  HAD 

COME  IN  CONTACT,  AND  THE  BIG  FORM  STRETCHED, 

LIMP  ON  THE  FLOOR. 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  17 

the  transom.  Then  he  turned  and  looked  into  the 
girl's  face. 

"This  is  unfortunate  on  your  account,"  he  said  in 
a  low  tone. 

There  were  footsteps  below. 

"You  must  go!"  warned  the  girl. 

"As  soon  as  I  have  gone,"  instructed  Ray,  extend 
ing  his  hand,  "call  the  police — tell  them  to  bring  a  sur 
geon — that  you  heard  some  one  fall  in  the  next  room 
— that  some  one  is  hurt — seriously  hurt!" 

"And  you  are  going?"  she  asked,  as  Ray  started 
toward  the  stairway. 

"You  suggested  it!"  he  replied. 

"Yes — you  must  go!"  she  continued,  as  the  steps 
halted  at  the  foot  of  the  stairway.  "But  where  will 
you  go?" 

"On  my  journey — but  to  bed  somewhere  for  the 
remainder  of  the  night." 

"But — shall — when  shall  I  see  you  again?" 

"Probably  at  the  trial,  if  the  officers  get  me.  They 
may  summon  you  as  a  witness." 

"For  you,  but  never  against  you — but  stay — I'll  bear 
the  blame — it  was  all  on  my  account — I  will  tell  the 
whole  truth;  that  will  exonerate  you,  and  as  for  me — " 

"No,  I  will  make  my  getaway — you  must  lay  it  on 
me,  or  better,  do  as  I  said  before.  Tell  them  that  you 
only  heard  a  noise  in  the  next  room.  He  deserved  it, 
and  besides,  I  didn't  intend  to — " 

The  footsteps  had  started  up  the  stairway. 

"The  key — they  knew  it  was  here — how  shall  I 
explain  that?"  she  asked. 


:8  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

"You  can't — I'll  stay,"  said  the  young  man. 

"No.  No — you  must  leave!"  she  begged,  now 
almost  hysterically.  "The  way  you  have  said  is  the 
best.  I'll  tell  them  he  came  in  drunk — that  I  gave 
him  the  key — that  after  he  had  entered  the  other  room 
and  locked  the  door  I  heard  him  fall.  Anything,  my 
brave  friend,  to  shield  your  connection  with  this  mat 
ter.  You  have  only  done  your  duty!" 

Ray  looked  at  her  thoughtfully. 

"If  concealing  the  truth  is  ever  justified,  it  is  in 
this  case.  Come  in  quickly !"  she  continued,  seizing  his 
hand  and  drawing  him  into  her  room.  The  steps  were 
approaching  the  head  of  the  stairway. 

The  girl  now  showed  woman's  inherited  tact  in 
emergency.  She  closed  the  door  quickly  and  locked 
it.  She  placed  her  fingers  on  the  little  thumbscrew  of 
the  lamp  to  extinguish  the  light,  but  before  turning 
it  looked  up  into  Ray's  eyes  for  a  moment.  In  that 
minute  he  discovered  a  great  transformation.  The 
shrinking,  timid  girl  of  their  first  meeting  less  than 
an  hour  before  had  developed  into  a  brave,  self-pos 
sessed  woman.  The  exciting  ordeal  had  done  the 
work  of  years.  But  she  had  not  lost  a  single  charm. 
To  her  beauty  and  modesty  had  been  added  the  grace 
of  self-reliance. 

After  turning  out  the  light  she  touched  his  arm 
and  he  followed  her  shadowy  form  to  the  other  side 
of  the  room.  She  raised  the  window  shade  cautiously, 
then  the  sash. 

"Lower  yourself  to  the  roof,"  she  whispered.     "It 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  19 

is  not  far.  Hurry — find  your  way  to  the  rear  and  let 
yourself  down  into  the  alley.  It  is  simple — go !" 

Ray  hesitated.  There  was  a  knock  at  the  door.  The 
girl  took  him  by  the  arm  and  urged  him  through  the 
open  window.  Another  knock,  strong  and  metallic, 
came  at  the  door.  Ray  stepped  down  on  the  roof. 
The  girl  was  holding  his  hand  to  direct  him. 

"Hurry !"  she  again  admonished  as  another  rap  came 
impatiently  on  the  door.  Then  she  released  his  hand 
after  an  assuring  grasp. 

"One  moment!"  she  whispered.  "Where  do  you 
go?  How  may  I  communicate  with  you?  I  must  let 
you  know  results !" 

"I  am  on  my  way  to  the  Nevada  gold  fields — " 

"Father  is  going  there,  too,"  she  interrupted.  "He 
will  catch  the  first  boat  tomorrow.  I  will  accompany 
him  across  the  bay  to  the  train,  and  try  to  see  you 
and  communicate  by  word  or  sign." 

As  the  sash  and  shade  closed  behind  him,  Ray 
stopped  for  a  moment  to  accustom  his  eyes  to  the 
darkness.  A  small  street  light  off  to  the  right  flick 
ered  like  a  distant  star  on  a  hazy  night,  while  a  steady 
glow  far  overhead  from  the  better  lighted  portion  of 
the  up^er  town  darkened  the  shadows  about  him.  He 
moved  on  cautiously  toward  the  rear  of  the  roof,  pick 
ing  his  way  thru  the  skylights  and  flues  and  over  the 
rubbish  that  had  been  thrown  from  the  windows  above. 

At  the  end  of  the  roof  he  found  the  descent  com 
paratively  easy.  He  was  about  to  let  himself  down 
into  the  alley  when  he  heard  the  window  sash  in  the 
rear  rise  again.  At  the  same  time  he  saw  a  dark 


20  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

form  come  out  from  below  and  take  a  stand  against 
the  wall  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  alley.  Then  a 
stream  of  light  shot  out  from  the  window  which  he 
had  just  left,  and  a  helmeted  head  followed.  Ray 
stretched  himself  out  on  the  roof  like  a  leech.  He 
knew  the  policeman  had  not  observed  him,  and  hoped 
he  had  escaped  the  eyes  of  the  figure  below. 

The  policeman  crawled  out  on  the  roof  and  stood 
for  a  moment  to  get  his  bearings.  Ray  had  never 
been  so  nervous  before.  Whether  to  leap  and  take 
chances  with  the  figure  below  or  rise  and  surrender, 
or  grapple  with  the  officer  was  the  question.  The 
statue-like  form  of  the  officer  began  to  move  slowly 
toward  him.  It  was  time  to  act! 

But  why  run?  What  was  his  crime?  He  had  come 
to  the  defense  of  a  helpless  woman,  and  then  was 
forced  to  defend  himself.  All  of  the  laws  of  God  and 
man  were  with  him.  But  the  young  woman?  What 
would  it  mean  for  her?  Could  it  be  explained  with 
out  compromising  her  in  some  way?  But  the  ruffian 
had  said  that  he  was  at  home — that  Ray  was  the 
intruder!  But  she  told  him  to  go!  He  would  do  as 
she  wished.  The  form  still  was  watching  from  below. 
The  policeman  was  now  near  him. 

"Steady,  my  boy!"  his  old  inner-self  spoke.  Every 
nerve  was  at  high  tension. 

"Of— fi— cer!" 

It  was  in  a  soft,  confiding  voice,  and  came  from 
the  open  window.  Ray  turned  his  head  cautiously  and 
saw  the  form  of  the  young  woman  leaning  through 
the  opening. 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  21 

"Yes,"  replied  the  policeman. 

"It  is  useless  to  search  out  there,"  she  said.  "My 
mind  is  collected  now.  Come  in  and  I  will  explain 
the  whole  matter." 

The  policeman  peered  about  for  a  moment  and  then 
returned  through  the  open  window.  The  sash  was 
quickly  lowered  and  Ray  noticed  that  the  hands  that 
lowered  it  were  shapely  and  small. 

*  Ray  now  determined  on  no  further  delay.  He 
looked  below  and  saw  the  dark  form  move  over  toward 
his  side  of  the  alley  and  enter  an  opening  just  beneath. 
Then  he  heard  the  creaking  of  rusty  hinges. 

"A  Chinese  laundry!"  he  smiled.  "It  was  John 
Chinaman  who  had  been  disturbed  by  the  noise  on  the 
roof." 

As  Ray  dropped  down  into  the  alley  he  heard  the 
ringing  of  a  gong  and  the  sound  of  horses'  feet.  They 
were  over  on  the  street  in  front  of  the  restaurant.  Then 
the  horses  stopped.  A  storm  of  footsteps  on  the  stair 
way  followed.  Then  a  clamor  in  the  hallway.  Ray 
crossed  the  street  and  looked  up  to  the  roof.  The 
window  sash  shot  up  in  the  window  he  had  left  and 
men  began  to  pile  out  through  the  opening. 

He  looked  up  and  down  the  alley  quickly.  There 
was  a  shadowy  light  at  the  upper  end.  The  lower 
was  even  darker  than  the  night.  He  started  on  the 
run  toward  the  blackness. 

A  half  shout,  half  scream  came  from  the  opening 
where  the  Chinaman  had  entered.  The  Mongolian  was 
giving  the  alarm !  Ray  ran  in  a  half-hearted  manner, 
like  one  doing  something  of  which  one  is  ashamed. 


22  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

At  the  end  of  the  alley  he  came  to  a  high  wall.     He 
heard  water  splashing  against  it  below. 

Then  he  looked  back.  The  officers  of  the  law  were 
lowering  themselves  into  the  alley  from  the  roof  which 
he  had  just  left. 


CHAPTER  II 

FOR  DEATH  VALLEY 

ROBERT  RAY  paused  for  a  moment  to  watch 
the  officers.  There  were  four  of  them.  After 
a  short  consultation  two  started  toward  the 
lighted  end  of  the  alley,  and  the  other  two  came  toward 
him.  It  was  now  a  mere  chance  of  luck,  and  he 
began  to  grope  his  way  along  the  wall  toward  the 
north.  He  soon  came  to  an  old  abandoned  wharf. 
Stopping  behind  an  abutment  of  the  structure,  he 
watched  for  his  pursuers.  When  the  two  shadows 
reached  the  point  he  had  just  left,  Ray  saw  them 
stop  again.  They  stood  for  several  seconds.  Then, 
to  his  great  relief,  they  started  toward  a  dim  light 
at  the  other  end  of  the  wall. 

Ray  then  groped  his  way  along  the  old  wharf.  He 
finally  came  to  a  point  from  which  he  could  see  small 
lights  glimmering  off  to  the  West,  and  struck  across 
lots  toward  these.  He  ran  into  heaps  of  rubbish  and 
holes  which  made  progress  difficult.  Then  he  came 
upon  low  board  structures  that  were  divided  by 
narrow,  uneven  lanes.  Following  one  of  these  until 
it  intersected  with  a  wider  street,  he  came  to  a  cheap 
rooming-house  sign,  and  entered  the  place.  A  drowsy 
man,  dressed  in  a  sailor's  uniform,  sat  by  a  rickety 
table.  He  showed  Ray  to  a  room,  which  reminded 
him  of  his  old  prospecting  cabin  in  Colorado. 

"Wake  me  for  the   7   o'clock   Oakland  boat!"   he 


24  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

called  as  the  sailor-looking  landlord  closed  the  door 
with  an  awkward  military  salute. 

Ray  found  sleep  out  of  the  question  at  first.  The 
scenes  of  the  previous  few  hours  forced  themselves 
before  him  like  pictures  on  a  screen.  The  pretty  girl 
at  the  door  with  the  old  lamp,  half  concealing  herself 
through  fear;  the  arrival  of  the  ruffian;  the  fight; 
the  big  hulk  of  a  form  limp  on  the  floor;  the  escape 
thru  the  window,  and  the  assuring  grasp  of  the  girl 
as  they  parted ;  her  call  to  the  officer  on  the  roof  when 
the  crisis  was  at  hand;  his  flight  and  the  pursuit. 

Then  he  was  looking  through  bars,  and  the  tread  of 
a  watchman  was  outside.  The  young  woman  was  sit 
ting,  bowed,  in  a  chair,  and  her  big  brown,  tearful 
eyes  were  gazing  at  Ray.  There  was  a  heavy  pound 
ing  somewhere,  as  if  the  place  was  being  assaulted. 
Then  it  was  at  his  cell  door ! 

"Hurry  up  for  your  7  o'clock  boat!"  a  hoarse 
voice  called. 

When  Ray  came  out  on  the  street  he  was  in  a  sec 
ond-hand  business  district.  The  few  people  stirring 
looked  at  him  in  a  suspecting  manner.  He  entered  a 
store  and  purchased  an  old  slouch  hat,  throwing  his 
cap  away  later.  Then  he  bought  a  morning  paper  and 
entered  a  restaurant.  Scanning  the  columns  carefully 
while  eating  a  short  breakfast,  to  his  delight  he  found 
no  account  of  the  previous  night's  tragedy. 

At  the  ferry  house  he  secured  his  suitcase  and  rifle 
from  the  check  stand  and  rushed  on  to  the  Oakland 
boat. 

Though    there    were    plenty    of    seats,    he    walked 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  25 

through  to  the  Oakland  side  of  the  boat.  He  wanted 
to  observe  those  seated  in  the  rear.  Easing  himself 
down  in  a  seat,  facing  the  amphitheatre,  dotted  here 
and  there  with  passengers,  he  looked  anxiously  for 
the  girl  of  the  night  before. 

"There  she  is !"  he  exclaimed,  mentally,  after  a  cas 
ual  survey  of  the  passengers. 

She  had  not  seen  him — at  least  she  had  not  recog 
nized  him,  though  she  sat  facing  him  to  the  right. 
She  was  accompanied  by  a  woman  and  a  man.  The 
man,  probably  fifty,  sat  nearest  the  aisle,  the  woman, 
near  the  man's  age,  sat  next.  The  woman  was  talking 
at  a  rapid  rate  to  the  man,  who  occasionally  nodded 
or  shook  his  head  mechanically,  as  if  merely  keeping 
time  to  the  one-sided  conversation.  The  girl  was  even 
more  indifferent.  Her  big  brown  eyes  wore  an  expres 
sion,  so  sad,  so  anxious,  that  it  would  have  spoiled  her 
beauty  but  for  their  innocence  and  the  pretty  face 
which  they  lighted.  Her  classic  features  and  tender 
expression  gave  her  the  appearance  of  a  stranger  to 
her  companions.  But  for  the  fact  that  her  flood  of 
dark  hair  fluffed  out  in  a  manner  similar  to  that  of 
the  elder  woman,  and  he  heard  her  address  the  other 
as  "mother,"  Ray  would  have  concluded  that  they 
belonged  to  a  different  world. 

The  young  woman  was  already  Ray's  idea  of  a 
facsimile  of  the  goddess  of  beauty.  She  had  scarcely 
left  his  mind  since  she  had  opened  the  door  for  him 
the  previous  night.  But  the  elder  woman,  with  her 
lean,  hard  features — mouth  with  drooping  corners — 
her  piercing,  expressionless  black  eyes,  reminded  him 


26  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

of  his  conception  of  how  a  real  fury  looked.  Still  he 
was  forced  to  conclude  that  a  trace  of  refinement  still 
lingered  behind  the  mask  which  time  had  placed  on  her 
face. 

Ray  watched  the  girl  cautiously.  He  was  anxious 
to  catch  a  glance  that  might  indicate  the  fate  of  the 
ruffian. 

"She  should  have  recognized  me  as  I  strode  by 
when  I  entered  the  boat,"  he  thought.  "No,  this  hat 
— and  she  saw  me  only  by  the  dim  light  last  night. 
Jove,  I  was  mistaken!" 

He  smiled.  She  had  given  him  a  glance  of  recog 
nition,  but  her  eyes  turned  quickly  into  space  again. 
Her  glance  was  accompanied  by  a  faint  smile,  though 
it  was  a  sad  one.  Ray  felt  the  impulse  to  rush  to 
her,  but  it  quickly  vanished,  as  the  girl's  eyes  turned 
warningly  toward  her  companions. 

For  a  time  the  young  woman  appeared  to  be  oblivious 
of  the  world  and  those  about  her.  She  seemed  to 
be  living  on  another  sphere.  Ray  thought  he  saw 
a  cloud  pass  now  and  then  on  her  pretty  face,  but  her 
eyes  still  shone  as  clear  as  stars  through  a  rift  in  a 
dark  cloud.  Then  after  a  time  he  heard  her  voice 
again.  And  such  a  voice!  It  was  sweeter  even  than 
it  was  the  night  before.  It  came  like  a  breath  of  zephyr 
through  the  hard  and  seasoned  sound  that  poured  in 
a  stream  from  the  other  woman's  lips. 

"Mother,  let  us  speak  of  pleasant  things — father  is 
going  away,  you  know!" 

She  had  interrupted  when  the  elder  woman  had 
reached  a  higher  pitch  in  her  tone. 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  27 

The  whistle  blew  and  the  boat  was  jamming  into 
place  against  the  wharf.  As  Ray  rose  he  caught 
another  glance  from  the  pretty  eyes.  The  buckle  of 
the  strap  of  his  rifle  case  caught  in  the  lattice  of  the 
seat  and  he  was  delayed  in  extricating  it.  The  crowd 
rushed  by,  shoving  one  another  ahead.  In  the  few 
seconds  the  young  man  was  getting  his  traps  together, 
the  girl  and  her  companions  had  reached  the  gang 
plank.  Ray  caught  a  glimpse  of  their  backs.  The 
girl  was  evidently  trying  to  loiter,  but  the  impatient 
passengers  in  the  rear  were  forcing  her  along.  Ray 
tried  to  rush  through  but  was  compelled  to  take 
his  place  in  line. 

At  the  end  of  the  gangplank  the  confusion  was 
greater.  Many  of  the  passengers  bound  for  San  Fran 
cisco  were  late,  and  were  boring  their  way  into  the 
crowd  that  was  leaving  the  boat.  In  the  jumble  Ray 
lost  sight  of  the  girl  and  her  parents.  The  place  was 
now  a  scramble.  Ray  realized  that  the  rush  to  the 
Nevada  gold  fields  was  on.  The  news  of  the  latest 
discovery  had  spread  like  wildfire,  and  Californians 
are  quick  to  stampede  for  a  new  strike.  They  inher 
ited  the  craze.  Whichever  way  he  looked  Ray  saw  a 
sea  of  strange  heads  and  faces  bobbing  about  like 
debris  on  a  wave. 

If  he  could  only  have  one  word.  Was  the  man 
dead?  Who  was  suspected?  He  rushed  on  with  the 
flood  of  the  crowd,  looking  into  every  face  as  he 
elbowed  his  way  through  the  throngs. 

The  man  had  carried  an  old-fashioned  grip.  Ray 
would  recognize  it  again.  But  the  girl.  He  had 


28  THE  TOLL  OK  THE  SANDS 

only  to  get  a  glimpse  of  her.  They  doubtless  were 
ahead.  He  watched  to  the  right  and  the  left.  They 
could  not  have  turned  aside  without  his  seeing  them. 

"Hello!"  he  exclaimed  to  himself.  He  had  run 
upon  them  suddenly.  The  man  was  waiting  his  turn 
at  the  steps  of  the  chair  car.  He  kissed  the  elder 
woman  and  turned  to  the  girl.  She  was  looking  anx 
iously  in  different  directions.  Just  as  her  father 
brought  her  to  the  knowledge  that  he  was  telling  her 
goodbye  she  discovered  Ray  again. 

Quick  as  a  flash  a  small  faded  package  dropped 
near  Ray's  feet.  He  picked  it  up,  held  it  for  a  moment 
and  then  reached  out  to  restore  it. 

"Thank  you,"  she  said  hurriedly.  "It  is  not  so 
bad  as  I  feared,"  she  continued,  brushing  imaginary 
dust  from  the  package,  "though  it  may  yet  prove — " 

"Daughter!"  interrupted  the  other  woman. 

"Yes,  Mother,"  she  said  abstractedly. 

"Don't  you  see  your  father  must  hurry — kiss  him 
goodbye!" 

The  girl  turned  as  if  suddenly  awakened  and  re 
ceived  the  kiss  of  the  man  on  her  forehead. 

"If  he  lives,  tell  him  to  hurry  after  me,  as  soon  as 
he  is  able,"  instructed  the  man  as  he  started  up  the 
steps  of  the  car. 

"Father,  you  were  about  to  forget  our  mysterious 
package,"  called  the  girl. 

He  grabbed  the  package  and  hurried  on.  When  he 
reached  the  platform  of  the  car  he  turned  and  raised 
his  hat  to  the  women.  Ray,  who  was  following, 
did  likewise.  He  was  between  the  man  and  women, 


THE  TOLL,  OF  THE  SANDS  29 

in  such  a  position  that  it  was  necessary  to  take 
off  his  hat.,  and  he  bowed  as  a  consequence.  As 
he  did  so  he  caught  the  eye  of  the  young  woman 
again.  A  sad  smile  rose  with  a  flush  on  her  cheek, 
but  she  turned  away  instantly,  taking  the  arm  of  her 
mother,  as  the  latter  called  out  something  to  her 
husband,  and  the  two  were  instantly  lost  in  the  crowd. 

The  car  was  crowded  and  Ray  kept  close  to  the  elder 
man  as  they  made  their  way  toward  the  front.  They 
finally  came  to  an  unoccupied  seat.  The  elder  man 
seized  it.  Ray  immediately  joined  him. 

"How  far  do  you  travel  on  this  line?"  asked  the 
man  in  the  way  of  an  introduction,  with  a  tremor  of 
agitation  as  he  caught  Ray's  eye. 

"To  Reno,"  replied  Ray. 

"I  go  as  far  as  Reno,  too — change  cars  there  for 
the  Nevada  gold  strike,"  explained  the  elder  man. 
"My  name  is  Mooring — John  Mooring." 

"We  have  the  same  destination  in  view,"  smiled 
Ray,  giving  his  name. 

They  were  companions  the  remainder  of  the  way. 
They  reached  Goldfield  in  the  night,  but  were  sepa 
rated  by  the  crowd  at  the  depot. 

Ray  regretted  losing  his  companion.  The  elder 
man  was  experienced  in  gold  rushes  and  would  be 
able  to  aid  him  in  the  new  field.  But  Ray  also  wished 
to  keep  in  touch  with  him  for  other  reasons.  He 
had  hoped  that  the  man  would  say  something  about 
his  family — his  daughter — something  about  the  epi 
sode  of  the  night  before  they  left  San  Francisco. 

But  never  a  word.  He  had  talked  only  of  money 
and  the  means  of  getting  it.  But  he  hoped  that  at 


3o  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

some  time  he  would  revert  to  the  subject  of  the  tragi 
cal  night.  If  the  big  fellow  should  die — Ray  was 
certain  from  what  the  girl  had  said  when  he  had 
restored  to  her  the  package  that  the  fellow  was  still 
living  when  they  left  San  Francisco — but  if  he  should 
die  later,  Mooring  would  certainly  be  informed,  and 
might  disclose  the  information  in  some  manner. 

"Suppose  the  fellow  is  dead,  or  should  die?"  medi 
tated  Ray  when  alone  in  his  room  that  night.  "Not 
so  bad  as  I  feared — though  it  may  yet  prove — "  He 
repeated  the  words  of  the  girl  at  the  depot.  "May 
prove  what?"  he  asked  himself.  Then  he  recalled 
what  Mooring  had  said  on  leaving  the  two  women. 
"If  he  lives,  tell  him  to  hurry  after  me !" 

"If  he  lives?"  continued  Ray,  meditatively.  "Oh, 
that  he  may  and  for  more  than  a  year  and  a  day !" 
he  smiled  at  the  rhyme  he  had  jingled. 

The  idea  of  becoming  crazily  infatuated  over  a  girl 
he  had  met  by  mere  chance — and  by  chance  had  de 
fended — and  for  whom  by  chance  he  might  yet  have 
to  stand  trial  for  his  life !  And  possibly  she  might  be 
a  married  woman,  at  that?  The  ruffian  was  perhaps 
her  husband  after  all,  young  and  pretty  as  she  was, 
and  villainous  and  coarse  as  was  the  man.  Who  could 
tell  what  a  woman  would  do?  Ray  had  no  patience 
with  the  old  theory  of  love  at  first  sight.  He  recalled 
a  few  cases  of  his  own  experience  where  there  were 
real  excuses  for  an  affair,  but  they  had  passed  and 
nobody  was  hurt.  There  was  not  a  love  throb  left 
in  his  heart — for  them. 

"Bosh !"  he  said,  as  he  arranged  to  go  to  bed.    "For- 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  31 

get  it,  young  man;  forget  it.  You  have  enough  on 
your  hands  on  her  account  already  without  raving 
over  a  girl  who  doubtless  only  remembers  you  as 
a  handy  fellow  who  chanced  her  way  in  an  emergency. 
She  never  expects  to  see  you  again — does  not  even 
know  your  name.  But  that  hand-touch — that  assuring 
grasp  as  she  eased  me  out  into  the  night.  That  voice 
— those  eyes — that  pretty,  angelic  face,  that  queenly 
form — shut  up,  you  boob!  You  may  have  to  swing 
for  killing  her — lover — perhaps  her  husband!  Won 
der  what  that  package  contained?"  he  continued  medi 
tatively,  after  a  time. 

It  was  late  when  he  awoke  the  following  morning. 
A  hurried  breakfast  and  he  was  on  the  streets  and 
among  the  crowd.  He  saw  not  a  face  that  he  knew. 
He  was  watching  for  the  companion  of  his  journey. 
He  went  to  the  postoffice  later  in  the  day,  hoping  that 
he  might  meet  him  there.  But  then  he  knew  it  was 
too  early  for  Mooring  to  expect  mail.  The  excite 
ment  everywhere  reminded  Ray  of  his  mission.  He 
had  just  completed  a  course  in  the  mining  school  in 
Colorado  and  he  must  now  turn  theories  into  prac 
tice.  His  ardor  had  a  quick  set-back.  He  was 
informed  that  it  was  too  late  to  go  prospecting;  that 
the  water  holes  had  dried  up  earlier  than  usual;  that 
it  was  worth  a  stranger's  life  to  venture  beyond  a  day's 
journey  from  the  camp;  that  all  of  the  ground  within 
that  distance  had  been  prospected  over  and  over  again, 
and  that  every  sign  of  mineral  had  been  staked  and 
recorded. 

Ray  had  wandered  about  for  two  days,  undecided. 


32  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

His  funds  were  low  to  start  with,  and  living  in  a  new 
mining  camp  was  high.  He  finally  came  upon  bis 
former  traveling  companion.  The  latter  was  wild 
with  enthusiasm.  The  crowds  had  aroused  him  as 
the  track  and  a  line  of  competitors  excite  a  horse  of 
the  turf.  He  had  gone  through  every  phase  of  the 
mining  game  and  felt  that  the  final  opportunity  had 
arrived.  He  had  played  the  loaded  dice  and  won  and 
lost.  He  had  always  stayed  too  long.  He  would 
know  this  time  when  to  quit. 

"Hello,  my  young  friend !"  exclaimed  Mooring.  "I 
have  been  looking  all  over  for  you.  I  have  the  scheme 
— prospecting  is  the  thing!  It  is  out  of  my  line,  but 
it  is  the  chance  of  a  lifetime.  It  is  the  only  thing 
left.  All  of  the  claims  within  reach  of  this  place  have 
been  taken,  organized  into  companies,  and  the  stuck 
is  out  of  reach.  It  is  up  to  us.  You  are  the  man. 
You  know  the  mineral  when  you  see  it.  I  know  how 
to  put  it  into  cash.  All  we  have  to  do  is  to  go  far 
ther  out,  stake  some  ground,  incorporate  a  company, 
put  the  stock  on  the  market — and  swim!  Let's  go 
prospecting !" 

"It  would  suit  me,  and  as  you  know,  I  came  to  pros 
pect,"  explained  Ray,  "but  they  say  there  is  no  ground 
worth  while  this  side  of  Death  Valley,  and  that  it 
would  be  suicide  to  venture  into  that  region  at  this 
season  of  the  year,  especially  for  those  not  familiar 
with  that  country." 

"I  know  that  it  is  a  bad  time  to  go,  so  far  as  weather 
conditions  are  concerned,"  replied  Mooring,  "but  it 
is  a  waste  of  time  to  linger  here.  I  could  possibly 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  33 

earn  my  salt  at  curbstone  brokerage,  and  you  could 
get  wages  at  something,  but  with  the  high  cost  of 
living  here,  we  might  as  well  be  on  a  farm.  Go  with 
me  and  I  will  get  us  both  on  our  feet.  Let's  get  a 
piece  of  ground,  and  I  will  get  the  money  to  develop 
it.  You  manage  the  mine  and  I  will  finance  it." 

Mooring  was  not  as  particular  about  property  that 
would  yield  as  he  was  about  its  location.  Distance 
would  lend  enchantment  to  value,  according  to  his 
plans.  It  was  the  time  of  all  times,  he  argued  to  him 
self.  The  prospectors  had  about  all  come  in,  and  they 
would  not  venture  out  again  until  fall.  If  he  and  Ray 
could  locate  claims  beyond  the  range  of  the  general 
field  he  would  incorporate  a  company  and  sell  stock 
irrespective  of  values. 

"I  have  inquired  about  that  Death  Valley  country," 
explained  Mooring.  "It  is  a  rich  field,  and  there  is 
enough  mystery  about  the  name  to  sell  stock!" 

Ray  looked  at  him  with  a  half-questioning  expres 
sion,  but  Mooring  proceeded. 

"Besides,  it  is  inaccessible,  and  has  not  been  pros 
pected  much.  There  are  a  number  of  water  holes  in 
the  country.  I  have  a  map,  and  if  we  are  cautious 
we  can  make  it.  Why,  damn  it,  young  man,"  he 
emphasized,  "I  would  go  close  to  hell  this  summer 
to  get  something,  rather  than  lay  around  camp  until 
fall,  and  then  go  out  with  the  rabble.  Mining  is  like 
fighting — the  fellow  who  gets  in  the  first  blow  in  a  new 
field  has  a  big  advantage!" 

Two  mornings  later,  as  the  day  was  breaking,  the 
two  men  rode  each  a  burro,  out  toward  the  south. 


34  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

They  drove  three  other  burros.  Two  were  loaded 
with  large  cans  of  water,  and  the  other  carried  pro 
visions. 

"Water,  they  said,  is  the  greatest  need,"  remarked 
Mooring  as  they  rode  along.  "If  our  supply  doesn't 
last  until  we  reach  the  first  water  hole,  it  will  be 
extravagance  that  exhausts  it;  with  what  provisions 
we  have  and  your  rifle's  aid,  we  should  not  worry 
about  the  food  supply." 

The  third  day  out  they  met  a  ragged,  sunburned, 
half-dazed  prospector.  His  lips  were  swollen  and  his 
tongue  was  barely  able  to  articulate.  He  pointed  to 
their  water  cans.  They  handed  him  a  canteen.  He 
drank  from  it  ravenously. 

"This  is  life,"  he  lisped.  "Death  is  ahead  of  you. 
He  came  near  getting  me.  You  better  turn  back!" 

"Isn't  there  a  water  hole  here?"  asked  Mooring, 
pointing  to  a  map  which  he  had  drawn  from  his  pocket. 

"There  was  a  little  when  I  left,"  explained  the  ex 
hausted  man,  "but  it  is  two  days'  journey  ahead  of 
you,  and  it  was  receding  rapidly  into  the  earth." 

"We'll  dig  for  it,"  replied  Mooring. 

"You  will  have  to  follow  it  into  the  rocks  when  it 
leaves  the  surface,"  warned  the  stranger,  shaking  his 
head  ominously.  Then  glancing  up  at  the  blazing 
sun,  he  nodded  his  head  with  a  look  of  pity  on  his 
sun-blistered  face,  and  proceeded  at  a  snail's  pace  on 
his  journey. 

"Why,  these  tender  feet  make  me  tired,"  said  Moor 
ing  in  an  encouraging  tone  of  voice.  "It  is  all  in  the 
will-power.  We'll  show  them.  Now  is  the  time  of 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  35 

all  times.  We  will  have  the  whole  field  to  ourselves. 
Fortune  awaits  ahead.  A  dull,  monotonous  camp  life 
lies  behind  us  for  the  summer.  We  will  have  wealth 
before  the  season  ends !" 

Ray  looked  on  the  limitless  plain  ahead.  The  heat 
danced  in  shadows  above  the  baking  sands.  The  bur 
ros  turned  suddenly  to  follow  the  departing  prospec 
tor.  Mooring  headed  them  off  with  a  sharp  cut  of 
his  whip.  Ray  thought  of  the  confiding  face  of  his 
companion's  daughter.  It  banished  every  doubt.  The 
two  men  forced  their  burros  on  toward  the  desolate 
region. 


CHAPTER  III 
CAST  IN  BY  THE  SANDS 

££  IT      ET  us  speak  in  the  pale-face  tongue!" 

A  girl  of  fourteen  placed  the  tips  of  the 
first  and  second  fingers  of  her  right  hand 
to  her  lips  as  a  sign  of  silence.  Her  brother,  two 
years  younger,  had  spoken.  Raising  her  hand  for 
silence  again,  the  girl  rose  and  went  to  the  only  door 
of  the  little  room  and  looked  out.  From  the  door 
to  the  small  window  in  the  rear  she  ran  noiselessly 
and  again  looked  out. 

"Tehana  no  hear  us  now;  we  may  talk  a  little 
white  tongue,"  she  said,  seating  herself  on  a  rug 
made  from  the  skin  of  a  desert  lion.  She  spoke  in  a 
soft,  sweet  voice  that  blended  with  the  low  sound 
of  the  desert  wind.  Her  large  black  eyes  shot  glances 
alternately  from  the  face  of  the  boy  to  the  door,  that 
she  might  not  lose  the  words  that  fell  so  slowly  from 
bis  lips  and  at  the  same  time  guard  against  surprise 
from  the  outside. 

"Why  do  Tehana  care  if  we  speak  Mokava's  tongue? 
Mokava  no  care  if  we  speak  Tehana's  tongue,"  in 
quired  the  boy,  continuing  with  a  spirit  of  bravado, 
"when  I  get  to  be  a  brave — a — man,  I'll  speak  Mo 
kava's  tongue  all  time!" 

"Speak  it  as  low  as  the  wind  now,  or  Tehana  will 
hear  you!"  cautioned  the  girl. 

"I  will  not  fear  Tehana  when  I  am  big,"  replied 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  37 

the  brother,  scarcely  above  a  whisper.  "Why  may 
we  not  speak  the  tongue  of  our  father?  Why  do 
Tehana  want  us  talk  like  Panamint  Joe  and  Old 
Mag?  I  do  not  like  Injun  talk.  They  grunt  like 
big  black  hog  and  sing  like  coyote." 

"Sh !  They  talk  and  sing  in  your  mother's  tongue, 
my  brother.  Do  not  forget.  Nevada  say  love  your 
mother." 

"Yes,  Nevada  just  like  pale  face.  That  pale  face 
way.  Injun  no  love  his  mother,  his  father — nobody. 
He  no  care.  He  eat  chuckwalla  and  rattlesnake  like 
big  black  hog.  White  man  know  heap.  Injun  know 
nothing.  He  no  write  on  paper.  He  no  read  book. 
He  always  same." 

"You  know  little  about  white  man,  Grant.  You 
see  only  few,  and  hear  Nevada  talk.  Cowboy  here 
only  two  weeks  when  he  got  leg  broke.  Surveyor  sick 
longer  time,  but  he  leave  soon  as  he  get  up.  Men 
come  in  from  desert  to  get  water,  but  go  right  away. 
Mokava,  he  white,  but  he  live  like  Injun." 

"White  man  no  like  Injun,"  persisted  the  boy.  "Ne 
vada  no  like  Injun.  No  one  know  she  Injun.  Her 
skin  white  like  Mokava's.  You  like  Injun.  I  like 
Injun.  I  love  you,  Amosa,  but  I  hate  Injun." 

"We  much  Injun  as  white.  Mokava,  he  white; 
Tehana,  she  Injun.  He,  our  father;  she,  our  mother. 
We  no  hate  Injun;  we  no  hate  white  man.  We  love 
all;  Nevada  say  love  all,"  argued  the  girl. 

"I  guess  I  too  much  Injun,"  replied  the  boy,  sadly. 
"I  no  redder  than  you,  but  more  Injun  than  you.  I 
too  much  like  Tehana.  She  all  storm-cloud.  You  like 


38  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

Nevada;  she  like  Mokava — all  sunshine.  You  good; 
but  I  like  Tehana;  she  like  bad  spirit,  she — " 

"Sh!  Don't  speak  that  way.  She  our  mother. 
Nevada  read  from  book — 'honor  father  and — ' ' 

There  were  irregular  footsteps  outside.  A  shadow 
darkened  the  doorway.  Then  a  man  fell  headlong 
across  the  threshold. 

The  improvement,  which  consisted  of  a  rough  rock 
house  and  a  small  adobe  slightly  to  the  rear,  with 
an  old  smoked  tepee  farther  back,  sat  beneath  some 
trees  on  an  irregular  lawn.  The  growth  was  cotton- 
wood  and  native  grass.  The  habitation  was  a  noted 
landmark  in  the  desert.  Long  stretches  of  restless 
sand  dunes,  interspersed  with  barren  hills  and  moun 
tains  of  rock  lay  out  in  every  direction  as  far  as  the 
eye  could  see.  The  gurgling  spring  which  gushed 
forth  beneath  the  green  foliage  had  produced  the  only 
vegetation  in  a  vast  region  of  country.  The  broad- 
leaved  cottonwoods  had  beckoned  many  a  thirsty  wan 
derer  from  a  grave  in  the  sands.  Some  had  been 
cast  in  from  the  desert,  as  if  from  the  sea,  more  dead 
than  alive. 

In  the  rear  of  the  houses  was  a  small  garden.  This 
and  a  large  meadow  connecting  directly  with  the  yard 
were  fenced.  The  cow  lot  and  burro  corral  were  sepa 
rated  by  a  rock  wall  near  the  spring.  All  of  the 
improvements  were  of  rock  and  dirt.  There  was  no 
other  building  material  in  that  portion  of  the  country. 

When  the  man  fell  into  the  doorway  the  children 
were  first  awe-stricken  though  they  uttered  not  a  word. 
They  thought  their  mother  had  come  upon  them  while 


THE  TOLL,  OF  THE  SANDS  39 

they  were  conversing  in  English — a  crime  that  meant 
sure  punishment.  But  true  to  the  inheritance  from  that 
same  mother,  they  exhibited  no  sign  of  fear. 

They  approached  the  prostrate  form  cautiously. 
The  man  tried  to  speak,  but  his  tongue  was  swollen 
until  it  protruded  from  his  lips.  He  turned  on  his 
side  and  pointed  his  hand  toward  the  north.  He  tried 
to  speak  again,  but  his  lips  were  immovable.  He 
raised  the  forefinger  of  his  right  hand  and  pointed  to 
his  breast  and  then  pointed  to  the  north  again.  His 
arm  dropped  to  the  floor.  He  had  become  unconscious. 

"Tehana !  Tehana !"  shouted  the  girl  and  the  boy  in 
chorus,  as  they  ran  to  the  tepee  in  the  thicket  to  the 
rear. 

When  they  reached  her  the  children  spoke  hurriedly 
to  their  mother,  an  Indian  woman,  in  her  native  tongue. 
She  rose  slowly  from  some  work  and  ambled  to  the 
front  of  the  rock  house.  As  soon  as  she  had  glanced 
at  the  man  on  the  floor  she  spoke,  and  the  boy  ran 
away  to  the  meadow.  The  girl  hurried  to  the  spring. 

"Tell  Mokava  to  come,"  she  had  said  to  the  boy. 
"Bring  water!"  she  had  directed  the  girl,  addressing 
them  in  her  native  tongue,  as  was  always  her  custom. 

She  had  unbuttoned  the  collar  of  the  shirt  of  the  visi 
tor  when  Amosa  returned  with  a  can  of  water,  and 
lost  no  time  in  applying  the  fluid  to  the  lips  of  the 
stranger  with  a  wet  rag.  This  she  dipped  repeatedly 
into  the  can  and  squeezed  the  water  out  on  his  lips 
and  forehead,  letting  it  run  down  on  his  sunburnt  neck 
and  chest.  Then  she  saturated  the  cloth  freshly  and 
wound  it  about  his  face,  leaving  a  place  for  his  nose 


40  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

to  inhale  the  air,  while  she  continued  to  dip  water 
with  her  hand  and  drop  it  steadily  on  the  brow  of  the 
man. 

When  Mokava  arrived,  unperceived  at  first  by  his 
squaw  wife,  he  could  not  resist  looking  on  in  silence 
for  a  moment.  In  spite  of  the  aversion  which  his  wife 
had  so  often  expressed  for  the  white  race,  save  that 
portion  which  he  embodied,  she  was  yielding  to  that 
intuition  which  is  a  part  of  every  woman,  irrespective 
of  race  or  color.  She  was  ministering  to  a  distressed 
human  being.  The  sight  awoke  in  him  a  heart  throb, 
pride  that  she  had  forgotten  her  prejudice,  for  the 
time,  at  least. 

As  Mokava  joined  the  squaw  the  young  man — he 
seemed  but  little  above  his  majority  in  years — opened 
his  eyes  and  attempted  to  speak.  He  stared  at  the 
woman  for  an  instant  and  then  his  eyes  fell  upon 
Mokava.  An  expression  of  amazement  first  clouded 
his  face ;  then  it  was  followed  by  an  expression  of  con 
tentment  as  he  fell  back  into  a  stupor  again. 

Mokava  read  the  story  at  a  glance.  It  was  a  com 
mon  story  out  there  in  the  desert.  The  corduroy  trou 
sers,  high-laced  shoes,  empty  canteen — another  pros 
pector  had  lost  his  way,  sighted  the  green  trees  in  the 
last  moment  of  desperation  and  reached  the  place  just 
as  he  succumbed. 

"He  pointed  in  that  direction  when  he  came,"  ex 
plained  Amosa  in  her  mother's  tongue,  extending  her 
finger  toward  the  north.  "He  kept  trying  to  tell  us 
about  something  out  there,"  she  continued,  detailing 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  41 

the  visitor's  efforts  to  tell  them  something  before  he 
fell  into  the  first  stupor. 

Mokava  looked  out  over  the  shimmering  desert  with 
a  doubtful  shake  of  his  head.  But  he  instructed  Amosa 
to  fill  a  canteen  with  fresh  water  from  the  spring.  He 
saddled  a  burro  hurriedly  and  rode  toward  the  north. 
He  had  no  trouble  in  finding  the  young  man's  trail 
and  followed  it  back  as  fast  as  he  could  force  the 
burro  to  go. 

"He  had  a  companion,  doubtless,  but  I  probably 
will  be  too  late,"  mused  the  squaw  man.  Then  glanc 
ing  back  from  a  rise  on  the  plain  he  saw  his  wife 
bending  over  the  form  of  the  young  stranger.  "Te- 
hana  hates  my  race,  but  she  has  the  true  heart  and  soul 
of  a  woman,"  he  murmured  in  her  own  tongue. 

An  hour  passed  before  the  young  man  again  showed 
signs  of  reviving  under  the  care  of  the  Indian  woman. 
She  patiently  applied  the  cool  water  which  was  kept 
fresh  from  the  spring  by  Amosa  and  Grant.  The  cool 
ness  at  the  setting  of  the  sun  had  begun  when  the 
stranger  again  opened  his  eyes  and  looked  about  him. 
He  could  move  his  lips  now  and  tried  to  speak,  but 
his  tongue  was  too  awkward.  He  attempted  the  sign 
language  but  was  unable  to  make  the  woman  or  her 
children  understand.  After  he  had  been  given  a  few 
swallows  of  water  his  tongue  became  more  active. 

«M— y  f—r— friend !  W—h— where  is  h— he?"  he 
lisped,  looking  about  the  room  a  second  time. 

Tehana  spoke  to  Amosa. 

"Mokava — father  gone  for  him,"  explained  the  girl, 


42  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

surprised  to  have  her  mother  tell  her  to  speak  in  the 
white  tongue. 

"But  he  was  here  a  few  minutes  ago!"  mumbled 
the  young  prospector,  gazing  at  the  squaw. 

"No,  no!  No  one  been  here  but  Mokava,  Tehana 
and  Grant  and  me,"  explained  the  girl. 

"I'm  sure  he  was  here,"  insisted  the  young  stranger 
in  an  indistinct  speech.  "I  have  been  delirious — out 
of  my  head — but  I  remember  when  he  looked  down  at 
me  while  the  woman — the  lady — was  cooling  my 
head." 

Grant  now  joined  in  the  conversation  and  he  and 
Amosa  explained  over  and  over  in  their  awkward 
language  what  had  occurred.  But  the  stranger  was 
not  convinced  that  he  had  not  seen  the  face  of  his 
companion  after  his  first  temporary  revival. 

It  was  long  after  nightfall  when  Mokava  arrived 
at  his  door.  He  led  the  burro  close  to  the  entrance 
and  called  for  a  lamp.  The  dim  light  showed  that  he 
had  been  successful  in  his  errand.  A  man,,  still  breath 
ing,  was  tied  across  the  back  of  the  animal.  Mokava 
had  first  walked  by  the  side  of  the  burro  and  held 
the  unconscious  stranger  on,  but  progress  was  so  slow 
that  he  tied  the  stranger  across  the  saddle  and  led 
the  way. 

The  younger  man  was  now  revived  to  such  an  extent 
that  he  rose  and  assisted  Mokava  and  the  squaw  in 
removing  the  rescued  man  from  the  burro  to  the  house. 
They  placed  him  on  a  bed  covered  with  soft  rugs  made 
from  the  skins  of  animals,  such  as  were  used  almost 
exclusively  in  the  place. 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  43 

While  they  were  arranging  for  his  comfort,  Amosa, 
who  was  holding  the  lamp,  came  nearer  and  its  light 
fell  directly  upon  the  face  of  the  unconscious  stranger. 
The  young  man  first  looked  at  the  face  of  his  friend 
and  then  at  that  of  Mokava.  He  repeated  this  a  num 
ber  of  times.  An  exclamation  burst  from  his  lips  that 
showed  a  doubt  in  his  own  mind  as  to  whether  or 
not  he  had  yet  regained  his  mental  faculties. 

"Ugh!"  burst  forth  from  the  lips  of  Tehana,  the 
first  time  her  husband  had  heard  her  give  vent  to  an 
expression  of  surprise  for  many  years. 

Amosa  and  Grant  looked  back  and  forth  repeatedly 
between  the  face  of  their  father  and  that  of  the  uncon 
scious  stranger. 

"What's  all  of  this  about?"  inquired  the  bewildered 
settler  of  his  Indian  wife  in  her  own  language. 

She  replied  in  the  same  tongue,  and  the  surprise  grew 
on  the  faces  of  their  children. 


CHAPTER  IV 
THE  DEVIL  IN  THE  MAN 

A  WEEK  had  passed  since  the  tragic  arrival  of 
Robert  Ray  and  John  Mooring  at  the  home 
of    Mokava.      Ray   had    recovered    overnight, 
and  was  spending  most  of  the  time  romping  among 
the  hills  south  of  the  place  with  Amosa  and  Grant. 
Mooring's  case  had  proved  more  serious  but  he  was 
now  convalescing,  though  still  confined  to  his  bed  most 
of  the  time. 

Their  burros  had  come  in  the  night  after  their  arri 
val,  and  Ray  and  Mokava  had  gone  out  the  next  day 
and  brought  in  the  belongings  of  the  prospectors.  The 
experience  of  Ray  and  Mooring  had  been  a  common 
one  of  the  desert  at  that  season  of  the  year.  They  had 
found  the  water  hole  indicated  on  Mooring's  map,  and 
referred  to  by  the  belated  prospector  whom  they  met 
on  the  third  day  out.  But  it  was  dry,  and  the  water 
had  doubtless  gone  back  to  the  rocks — at  least,  they 
found  no  evidence  of  it  by  digging. 

The  supply  which  they  had  brought  along  was 
exhausted  while  they  were  trying  to  reach  the  retreat 
ing  fluid  that  had  formerly  occupied  the  vacant  hole, 
and  they  started  out  early  in  the  morning  to  look  for 
another  'place  indicated  by  Mooring's  map.  But  at 
the  end  of  two  days  they  found  themselves  exhausted 
and  bewildered  among  the  limitless  sand  dunes.  While 
they  were  camped  for  the  night  their  burros  deserted 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  45 

them.  They  left  everything  behind  next  morning  and 
struck  out  on  the  trail  of  the  burros,  hoping  that  it 
would  lead  to  water.  But  it  was  soon  lost  in  the  shift 
ing  sands.  Mooring  later  fell  by  the  wayside,  and 
Ray,  through  the  sheer  luck  that  sometimes  comes  to 
those  in  distress,  sighted  the  trees  above  Mokava's 
home  and  staggered  into  the  place. 

It  was  an  early  forenoon  and  Robert  Ray  and  the 
two  children  were  out  as  usual.  Tehana  was  in  her 
tepee  in  the  rear  where  she  now  spent  most  of  her 
time.  She  came  into  the  presence  of  the  strangers 
only  when  it  was  necessary.  Her  distance  between 
them  had  increased  in  proportion  to  the  rate  of  their 
recovery.  Amosa  and  Grant  took  advantage  of  this 
and  fairly  lived  in  the  white  man's  atmosphere.  They 
talked  the  tongue,  heard  the  stories  with  which  chil 
dren  are  so  familiar  in  the  great  outside  world  and 
dreamed  and  dreamed  of  the  time  when  they  might 
see  it  all  for  themselves. 

Mokava  was  sitting  by  the  couch  of  Mooring.  They 
had  begun  to  permit  the  latter  to  talk  now,  as  he  was 
improving. 

"And  those  burros  came  in  of  their  own  accord," 
remarked  Mooring.  "They  were  faithful,  after  all. 
They  must  have  been  ashamed  at  deserting  us." 

"No,  they  come  for  water,"  smiled  Mokava.  "Burro 
all  right,  though.  He  never  desert  man  in  desert  until 
water  gives  out.  Then  after  so  long  he  begin  to  smell 
for  water.  He  finally  gets  scent  like  Injun  and  starts 
out.  He  always  find  nearest  water." 

"They  say  we  resemble  each  other  very  much,  and 


46  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

,1  must  admit  it,"  smiled  Mooring  faintly,  after  a  pause 
and  glancing  into  a  small  hand  mirror  which  he  had 
rescued  from  his  pack.  "But  these  things  often  hap 
pen  with  strangers.  I  know  but  little  about  my  ances 
try,  but  there  cannot  possibly  be  any  relationship  be 
tween  us.  My  parents  started  across  the  plains  in 
early  days  and  became  separated.  I  was  taken  by 
friendly  immigrants  to  the  Pacific  coast.  My  father 
and  mother  and  the  other  children  perished  on  the 
desert.  I  have  positive  proof  of  this — not  one  other 
than  myself  survived." 

"I  no  know  nothing  of  my  family  and  not  much 
about  myself,"  replied  Mokava.  "I  no  know  my  name. 
A  very  old  chief  may  know.  He  my  father — red  father. 
He  know  where  he  got  me.  But  he  far  away — 
maybe  dead.  I  always  lived  with  Injuns.  I  first 
learned  little  white  tongue  from  white  men  who  come 
along.  They  hunt  water  and  find  us.  Then  Nevada, 
she  teach  me.  She  smart  girl.  You  no  think  her 
mother  squaw.  I  think  she  like  my  mother." 

"Our  resemblance  is  one  of  nature's  coincidences, 
I  suppose,"  continued  the  invalid,  "though  they  often 
happen.  Men  have  met  for  the  first  time  from  differ 
ent  portions  of  the  world  before  who  resembled  each 
other  like  brothers,  and  yet  were  far  removed  from 
relationship.  Ours  is  a  marked  case,  I  must  admit, 
and  it  must  be  very  noticeable  to  others.  I  believe, 
though,  you  are  older  than  I?" 

"I  know  not  my  age,  but  I  must  be  about  half  a 
hundred,"  replied  the  settler.  "I  was  grown  more'n 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  47 

twenty-five  years  ago.  Nevada,  she  is  eighteen,  and 
she  no  born  until  many  years  after  I  took  .Tehana  for 
wife.  I  had  harder  life  than  you.  I  slept  on  ground 
until  I  was  a  man.  Lived  with  Injuns  and  lived  like 
Injuns.  Never  had  much  to  eat.  I  never  get  use  to 
Injun  grub.  Nevada  learn  white  ways  of  cooking 
and  she  teach  her  mother.  Tehana  no  like  white  ways 
of  cooking,  but  she  good  woman.  She  do  as  I  say. 
Injun  women  all  do  as  husbands  say.  I  want  to  learn 
more  about  white  man's  ways.  Nevada,  she  pass  for 
white.  She  smart  girl.  I  hope  much  for  her — and 
Amosa,  and  Grant." 

"Where  is  Nevada?"  asked  the  visitor. 

"She  in  school — Injun  school!  Government  sur 
veyor  come  along.  He  sick  here  for  time.  He  see 
what  smart  girl  Nevada  was  and  had  'em  send  for 
her.  She  been  home  once.  She  teach  Amosa  and 
Grant.  Her  mother  no  love  her  any  more  as  she 
should.  She  think  children  quit  havin'  Injun  ways. 
Nevada,  she  come  home  again  this  fall,  but  she  no 
stay.  She  take  Amosa  and  Grant  back  with  her  and 
teach  'em.  She  will  be  teacher  then  in  Injun  school. 
She  very  smart — " 

"Hello  pal,  look  at  this !"  interrupted  Robert  Ray, 
entering  the  door  hurriedly,  followed  by  Grant  and 
Amosa. 

"Oh,  Mokava!  Young  pale  face — young  white 
man — say  Amosa  smart  girl,"  broke  in  Grant. 

"He  no  say  such  thing,"  blushed  Amosa. 

"Wait  till  he  see  Nevada — if  he  could  see  Nevada  ?" 
gloated  the  boy. 


48  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

"Pal,  pal,  look  at  this!"  insisted  Ray.  He  had  be 
come  more  familiar  with  his  companion  under  their 
hardships.  "If  this  isn't  the  real  stuff,"  he  continued, 
exhibiting  a  handful  of  rich  quartz  specimens,  "the 
time  I  have  put  in  studying  minerals  has  been  wasted." 

Mooring  seized  the  pieces  of  quartz  and  called  for 
his  glass.  When  he  had  examined  each  piece  criti 
cally  under  the  glass,  he  rose  upon  the  couch,  despite 
the  remonstrance  of  Mokava,  his  eyes  flashing  with 
excitement. 

"You're  right,  Bob;  you're  right!  It  will  run  a 
thousand  dollars  to  the  ton.  Where  did  you  find  it?" 

"Why,  it  is  scattered  all  over  the  mountain  to  the 
south — just  a  stone's  throw  from  this  place!"  replied 
Ray. 

"He  took  it  from  your  mine,"  said  Grant,  address 
ing  his  father. 

"From  Burro  Hill?"  smiled  the  settler. 

"Yes,"  nodded  the  boy. 

"I  sorry,  but  you  no  find  anything  much,"  said 
Mokava. 

"Ain't  that  the  real  metal?"  inquired  Ray  of  Moor 
ing,  again  fondling  the  specimens. 

"It  is  certainly  good  enough  for  me!"  replied 
Mooring. 

"But  no  enough  of  it,  just  little  here  and  there — 
pockets  as  miners  say,"  explained  the  settler.  "Small 
pockets  at  that,"  he  continued.  "I  take  out  little  now 
and  then,  but  just  as  you  think  you  find  heap  it  play 
out." 

"There  is  bound  to  be  plenty  of  it  farther  down," 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  49 

remarked  the  elder  visitor,  confidently.     "Make  out 
notices,  Bob,  in  yours  and  my  name,  and  file  on  it!" 
"You  had  forgotten — it  belongs  to  our  host/'  re 
minded  Ray. 

"Has  it  been  staked  according  to  law?"  asked 
Mooring. 

"No,  but  our  friend  here  is  in  possession,"  again 
reminded  Ray.  "He  has  done  a  little  prospect  work 
on  the  ground,  too.  I  did  not  mean  to  interfere  with 
his  claims,  but  they  indicate  a  rich  country  hereabouts. 
We  will  doubtless  be  able  to  find  other  good  ground 
that  will  not  conflict  with  the  rights  of  our  bene 
factor." 

"Go  stake  it — any  that  you  come  to!  Put  up  the 
notices — it  belong  to  whoever  first  complies  with  the 
law !"  shouted  Mooring,  the  blood  rushing  to  his  face 
which  had  bleached  to  a  marble  white  during  his 
confinement. 

Ray  stared  at  his  friend  anxiously.  Could  it  be 
that  the  heat  had  unbalanced  the  mind  of  his  com 
panion  ?  He  had  been  told  that  it  often  affected  men's 
brains  for  long  periods — that  sometimes  they  never 
thoroughly  recovered. 

"I  mean  it !"  exclaimed  Mooring,  attempting  to  rise 
from  his  bed,  and  glaring  at  Ray  impatiently.  "I'll 
do  it,  myself,  tomorrow,"  he  continued  in  a  weak 
voice,  as  he  dropped  back  on  his  pillow. 

"There  is  plenty  of  time,  Mr.  Mooring,"  he  said 
soothingly.  "When  you  are  able  to  get  out  we  will 
then  take  the  matter  up  with  our  host  and  reach  terms 
of  some  kind  that  will  be  fair  to  him." 


50  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

"I  will  be  up.  Tomorrow  we  will  stake  the  whole 
country,"  declared  Mooring,  his  voice  gaining  strength. 

"There  should  be  no  hurry,"  explained  Ray  in  a  per 
suasive  voice.  "No  one  will  venture  in  to  interfere. 
It  was  only  chance  that  brought  us  here.  Take  it 
easy.  It  will  be  several  days  before  you  are  able  to 
stake  ground,  let  alone  travel.  The  weather  is  get 
ting  hotter  every  day." 

"That  ground  shall  be  monumented  tomorrow,"  said 
Mooring,  firmly.  "If  you  don't  care  to  join  me,  I  will 
take  all  the  responsibility  myself.  If  you  are  a  quit 
ter—" 

"I  am  not  a  quitter,  but  I — "  broke  in  Ray,  who 
was  in  turn  interrupted  by  Mokava. 

"You  may  have  it — I  no  want  it.  It  is  no  good 
to  me.  Go  take  it — do  as  you  please  with  it!" 

"That's  all  right,"  replied  Ray,  winking  cautiously 
at  the  squaw  man,  indicating  that  his  friend  was  off 
his  mental  balance.  "We  will  arrange  it  all  as  soon 
as  my  friend  gets  well.  We  would  not  think  of  betray 
ing  such  an  opportune  hospitality  as  befell  us  here." 

"You  mistake  me,  young  man,"  replied  Mooring. 
"You  think  I  am  laboring  under  mental  weakness  from 
my  weakened  body.  My  mind  was  never  stronger  or 
more  normal." 

"I  know,  but  let  it  rest  for  a  few  days,"  soothed 
Ray. 

"Let  it  rest!"  retorted  Mooring.  "I  will  do  noth 
ing  of  the  kind.  Do  you  think  I  am  a  weakling,  a 
baby,  a—" 

"My  friends  quarrel  enough,"  interrupted  Mokava. 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  51 

"That  no  good.  Go  take  it  all.  I  care  not  for  mines. 
They  not  much  good — not  worth  much  as  friend.  You 
take  'em.  I  give  what  I  have  to  you !" 

"With  those  specimens  I  could  organize  a  company 
and  raise  thousands  of  dollars,"  argued  Mooring  more 
patiently,  after  Mokava  had  left  them  alone.  "I  might 
as  well  declare  myself  now.  I  am  out  here,  boy,  for 
the  dough.  I  did  not  come  into  this  desolate  region 
for  my  health.  I  am  making  this  my  last  throw  in 
mining.  Did  I  not  chase  to  Cripple  Creek,  to  Klon 
dike  and  to  Nome  without  saving  a  stake?  It  was 
nil  because  I  had  too  much  conscience — too  much  of 
your  stock  and  trade!  I  have  now  laid  that  impedi 
ment  aside.  I  tell  you,  it  won't  work  in  this  game!" 

"The  specimens  are  not  ours;  the  ground  is  not 
ours,"  replied  Ray.  "And  we  do  not  know  but  that 
the  theory  of  our  host  is  right — it  may  be  merely  a 
pockety  formation.  Though  I  do  believe  he  is  mis 
taken,  that  there  is  mineral  in  place  on  what  he  calls 
Burro  Hill;  and  that  by  careful  prospecting  and  con 
scientious  development  working  mines  may  be  estab 
lished." 

"I  don't  care  anything  about  technical  terms  nor 
theories,"  explained  Mooring.  "Neither  do  I  care 
anything  about  prior  rights  that  can  be  pushed  aside. 
You  have  the  specimens;  there  must  be  others.  We 
can  make  the  showing  back  in  camp  that  will  start 
the  excitement.  I  see  a  fortune  ahead  without  a  single 
obstacle  in  the  way,  except  your  foolish  sentiment.  I 
shall  brush  that  aside,  if  necessary,  and  go  it  alone. 
You  may  join  me  if  you  wish." 


52  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

Mooring  was  now  exhausted  and  turned  on  his  pil 
low  and  waived  Robert  Ray  aside.  The  latter  walked 
out  into  the  open.  He  wandered  for  a  time  among 
the  cottonwoods,  and  finally  reached  a  crude  seat 
which  he  had  constructed  under  a  large  tree  near  the 
spring  and  sat  down.  Amosa  and  Grant  had  always 
followed  him  before,  but  they  had  quickly  noticed 
the  cloud  on  his  face  as  he  passed  them  unperceived, 
and  left  him  alone  to  meditation. 

"And  this  is  life  out  in  the  world  of  strangers,"  Ray 
commented  to  himself.  "Even  out  here  where  God  is 
almost  alone,  men  ignore  the  most  elementary  rights 
of  others.  Greed,  greed,  greed;  I  have  heard  and 
read  so  much  about  it.  I  had  come  to  think  much  of 
it  fiction,  but  I  am  brought  face  to  face  with  it  in 
its  most  unscrupulous  type.  Who  would  have  thought 
of  its  power  ?  Betraying  friends,  those  who  have  min 
istered  in  time  of  need — actually  saved  life!" 

He  sat  and  thought,  and  thought,  and  thought. 
This  was  the  father  of  that  girl !  She  had  never  been 
out  of  Ray's  mind  since  that  tempestuous  night.  Was 
she  like  her  father  at  heart  ?  Was  she,  too,  so  ungrate 
ful?  No,  such  a  face  and  such  eyes  could  not  have 
other  than  a  pure  soul  behind  them!  Robert  Ray 
had  begun  to  cling  to  the  theory  that  children  do  not 
inherit  the  bad  traits  of  their  parents.  He  was  school 
ing  himself  to  believe  this.  His  own  peculiar  heritage 
justified  his  hope  in  this  theory. 

But  the  girl!  What  would  she  think  of  men  who 
would  deliberately  betray  a  friend — a  host — one  who 
had  done  so  much  for  them  as  Mokava  had  done  for 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  53 

her  father — snatched  him  more  dead  than  alive  from 
the  burning  sands  of  the  desert?  What  would  she 
think  of  such  a  father?  What  would  she  say  to  Ray 
should  he  ever  have  the  opportunity  to  declare  his 
love  to  her?  But  probably  she  would  never  learn 
of  her  father's  conduct.  She  might  some  time  learn 
that  he  had  gone  prospecting  with  a  man  by  the  name 
of  Ray,  and  that  they  had  disagreed.  She  would  never 
know  why,  but  of  course,  she  would  blame  the 
stranger. 

"Her  father's  way  may  be  the  way  of  the  world," 
commented  Ray,  mentally,  "but  I  will  never  take 
advantage  of  a  man's  ignorance  of  the  law,  which  that 
same  law  will  not  excuse,  and,  especially,  one  who 
has  saved  my  life  and  that  of  my  companion.  If  I 
can't  dissuade  Mr.  John  Mooring  from  his  purpose, 
then  we  must  part  company — and,  the — the  girl — 
why,  you  young  fool — she  doesn't  know  your  name 
— she  has  forgotten  that  you  even  exist !" 

Then  the  vision  of  the  prostrate  form  of  the  ruf 
fian,  and  the  events  of  the  night  he  met  the  girl  loomed 
before  him  more  vivid  and  more  harrowing  than 
ever  before,  but  they  quickly  vanished  before  the  pretty 
face  and  confiding  eyes  that  rose  in  the  background. 

Ray  was  aroused  from  his  meditation  by  the  clat 
ter  of  small  feet.  Before  he  had  time  to  look  up  Amosa 
and  Grant  rushed  close  to  him. 

"Young  pale  face — Bob!"  exclaimed  Grant,  excit 
edly. 

"Oh,    Mr.    Ray!"    followed     Amosa,    catching  her 


54  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

breath  spasmodically.  "Your  friend,  sick  man — he 
get  up,  dress,  and — " 

"Go  'way !"  finished  Grant. 

Ray  rose  and  hurried  toward  the  rock  house,  the 
two  children  following  at  his  heels. 


CHAPTER  V 
THE  DEVIL  BREAKS  OUT 

RAY  had  reached  the  door  of  the  rock  house 
and  was  about  to  enter  when  he  saw  Mooring 
walking  slowly  toward  Burro  Hill.  It  required 
but  a  short  time  to  reach  the  side  of  his  feeble  friend. 

"Jack — Mr.  Mooring!"  exclaimed  Ray,  taking  him 
by  the  arm,  "this  will  never  do.  You  are  not  strong 
enough  to  venture  out  yet — too  much  exercise  at  the 
start  will  cause  a  backset.  Besides,  the  day  is  very 
warm.  If  you  must  get  out,  wait  until  the  cool  of  the 
morning  and  go  about  it  gradually.  We  will  never 
get  out  of  this  country  unless  you  take  care  of  your 
self!" 

"Where  are  those  claims?"  asked  Mooring,  pausing. 

"Around  through  that  gulch  to  the  east,  over  there," 
explained  Ray,  pointing  with  his  finger  toward  a  gap 
in  the  low  range  of  hills.  "They  are  nearly  a  mile 
away,  and  you  could  never  make  it  to  them  in  this 
heat,  as  weak  as  you  are.  Return  with  me  to  the 
house  and  we  will  go  tomorrow  morning,  while  it  is 
cool.  I  will  mount  you  on  a  burro." 

The  fatigue  was  telling  on  Mooring.  He  now 
realized  that  he  had  attempted  too  much  on  his  first 
venture  from  his  bed.  He  leaned  on  Ray  for  a  short 
time  to  rest  himself  and  they  started  on  the  return. 

The  following  morning  found  a  unique  prospect 
ing  party  heading  for  Burro  Hill.  Ray  and  Amosa 


56  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

and  Grant  led  the  way  on  foot,  far  outstripping  Moor 
ing-  and  Mokava,  who  were  mounted  on  burros.  Ray 
carried  a  pick  and  shovel,  while  Amosa  lugged  a  big 
prospecting  pan.  Mokava  had  two  large  cans  of  water 
strapped  across  the  back  of  his  burro  while  two  can 
teens  balanced  each  other  from  the  horn  of  Mooring' s 
saddle. 

"If  we  had  brought  grub  along  we  might  pitch 
camp  here/'  smiled  Ray  when  the  party  reached  Mo- 
kava's  first  prospect  hole. 

"We  have  plenty  of  water,  and  that  suits  me," 
smiled  Mooring,  who  was  more  jubilant  than  Ray  had 
ever  seen  him  before.  The  all-night  sleep  after  his 
exercise  in  the  open  air  the  previous  day  had  refreshed 
him  wonderfully,  and  the  yellow  metal  which  glistened 
from  the  specimens  brought  in  by  Ray  had  set  his 
blood  to  tingling  anew. 

"Is  this  where  you  got  the  samples?"  asked  Moor 
ing. 

"It  is  where  I  got  some  of  them,"  explained  Ray, 
"but  the  richer  ones  came  from  the  hole  farther  up 
the  gulch." 

"They  better  still,  up  at  head  of  gulch,"  volunteered 
Mokava. 

"Why,  we've  struck  a  group  of  rich  claims!"  ex 
claimed  Mooring,  his  eyes  sparkling. 

Mokava  showed  them  the  trend  of  the  deposits  in 
the  lower  claims  and  led  them  to  a  wall  where  sam 
ples  were  taken  from  a  softer  formation.  He  crushed 
particles  of  these  in  a  mortar  improvised  from  rocks 
and  washed  the  proceeds  in  the  pan.  When  he  had 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  57 

finished  a  string  of  more  or  less  coarse  gold  encircled 
the  lower  side  of  the  vessel. 

"Eureka !"  shouted  Mooring.  "We  have  found  gold 
in  two  forms — both  milling  and  free  milling." 

Then  Mokava  went  to  the  bed  of  the  gulch  and 
shoveled  gravel  and  sand  into  the  pan.  He  washed 
this  hurriedly  and  a  thread  of  gold,  so  fine  that  it  was 
hardly  discernible  to  the  naked  eye,  lay  in  a  dent  at 
the  bottom  of  the  pan. 

"And  placer,  too!"  cried  Mooring.  "Where  have 
the  prospectors  been  that  they  have  never  found  this 
place?" 

"It  off  the  trail — few  come  this  way,"  explained 
Mokava.  "Burro  Hill  low,  never  see  it  till  close — 
always  see  trees  first.  No  look  like  minin'  land,  any 
way — an'  I  no  think  it  is.  Too  little  in  same  place — 
stringers  run  out.  Small  bank  of  that  you  call  free 
millin',  and  placer  too  fine  to  save." 

"It's  good  enough  for  me — for  us — isn't  it,  Bob?" 
chuckled  Mooring. 

"It  looks  promising,"  replied  Ray. 

The  fascinating  work  held  them  until  noon.  They 
recovered  many  specimens  from  the  crevasses  of  the 
walls  and  from  the  depths  of  Mokava' s  prospect  holes. 
They  did  not  quit  until  Ray's  and  Mokava's  fingers 
were  sore  to  the  quick  from  contact  with  the  hard 
formation.  And  Mooring  had  panned  the  loose  gravel 
and  sand  until  he  had  exhausted  all  of  the  water 
which  they  had  brought  along. 

They  had  returned  to  the  house,  ate  a  hearty  meal 
and  Mooring  and  Ray  were  in  the  highest  spirits.  Late 


58  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

in  the  afternoon  Mooring  joined  Ray,  after  a  long 
rest,  under  the  cottonwoods  near  the  spring. 

"Did  you  enjoy  your  nap?"  asked  Ray. 

"Had  a  fine  sleep,"  said  Mooring.  "Never  felt 
better.  Say,  Bob,  have  I  talked  in  my  sleep  since  we 
started  on  this  journey?"  asked  Mooring  after  a  long 
pause. 

"Occasionally,  since  we  arrived  here,"  smiled  Ray. 

Mooring  looked  at  him  inquiringly  and  worried. 

"But,  like  most  persons  who  talk  in  their  sleep," 
hurried  Ray,  "you  gave  but  little  information  to  your 
involuntary  audience." 

Mooring' s  countenance  cleared. 

"In  your  mumbling  sentences  sometimes  I  caught 
the  word  'Ruby/  but  you  did  not  disclose  whether  you 
referred  to  a  person  or  precious  stone.  I — " 

"I  doubtless  referred  to  my  daughter,"  interrupted 
Mooring,  the  blood  coloring  his  face  slightly.  "That 
is  her  name  and  she  will  prove  a  jewel  to  the  man 
who  is  so  fortunate  as  to  get  her.  She  is  as  much 
unlike  her — but  such  dreams  as  I  have  had.  If  there 
is  anything  in  bad  dreams  that  tend  to  suggest  to  a 
man  what  is  in  store  for  him,  I  will  never  be  hanged 
— that  would  be  too  easy.  Tar  and  feathers  and  burn 
ing  at  the  stake  would  be  a  mild  ending  as  suggested 
by  my  dreams. 

"I  have  been  trying  to  separate  the  dreams  while  I 
was  asleep,  or  the  things  that  ran  through  my  brain 
in  the  delirium,  from  my  thoughts  while  I  was  con 
scious.  It  is  difficult  to  find  the  dividing  line.  I  can 
not  segregate  the  volumes  of  terrible  stuff  that  passed 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  59 

through  my  brain  from  the  time  I  lost  consciousness 
in  the  desert  until  several  days  after  my  revival  in  the 
rock  house,  and  the  waking  and  sleeping  hours  were 
so  much  alike." 

"Ruby,  Ruby!"  ran  through  Robert  Ray's  mind 
again  and  again,  and  he  was  about  to  reveal  some  of 
his  family  history  when  Mooring  broke  forth  anew. 

"Oh,  to  the  devil  with  dreams  and  the  past!  Bob, 
I  have  a  plan  to  suggest.  It  is  this.  There  is  enough 
of  that  ground  for  all  of  us — you,  the  squaw  man  and 
myself.  His  third  would  not  cut  in  very  heavy,  and 
he  has  been  a  darned  good  fellow." 

Ray  rose  and  ran  to  where  Mooring  was  reclining 
on  the  grass  and  grasped  his  hand. 

"That  is  what  I  have  been  wanting  to  hear  you  say, 
Mr.  Mooring — let  us  three  share  alike.  Mokava  may 
be  mistaken  about  the  depth  of  the  formation — I  hope 
he  is.  Nature  is  peculiar  with  her  deposits  of  wealth. 
She  hides  them  in  out  of  the  way  places;  drops  sam 
ples  here  and  there,  as  if  to  throw  men  off  her  trail; 
there  is  no  fixed  rule  for  searching  for  her  wealth. 
There  may  be  large  quantities  of  ore,  of  the  richest 
kind,  in  the  bosom  of  Burro  Hill ;  the  highly  mineral 
ized  float  found  nearly  everywhere  over  there  certainly 
indicates  that  we  are  in  close  proximity  to  mineral  in 
place." 

"I  don't  want  anything  better,  unless  it  is  a  place 
where  we  can  scoop  up  the  gold,"  replied  Mooring. 
"Let  us  get  out  early  tomorrow  morning  and  monu 
ment  the  ground  and  put  up  the  notices." 

"I  will  attend  to  that,"   volunteered  Ray.     "You 


6o  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

are  not  able  to  work  yet,  and  Mokava  is  doing  enough 
in  graciously  sharing  the  property  with  us.  I  will 
step  off  the  ground  and  build  the  monuments  in  a 
short  time.  I  have  only  been  waiting  for  this  turn 
of  your  mind.  I  knew  you  would  never  consent  in  the 
end  to  leave  Mokava  out.  Let  us  prepare  and  sign 
the  location  notices  this  afternoon." 

The  blood  again  rose  to  the  cheeks  of  Mooring  at 
this  reference  to  his  honesty  as  the  two  men  rose  and 
walked  to  the  house.  They  found  paper,  pen  and  ink 
among  their  belongings,  and  called  Mokava  for  a 
conference. 

"Do  as  you  please,"  directed  the  settler  when  Ray 
had  explained  the  plan.  "I  no  have  much  belief  in 
mines,  but  maybe  I  wrong.  It  would  be  good  though 
— for  Nevada,  Amosa  and  Grant!" 

Mokava  refused  to  stand  idly  by  and  assisted  Ray 
in  the  work.  And  Amosa  and  Grant  carried  stones 
too  heavy  for  their  strength  and  added  them  to  the 
monuments  that  the  two  men  built.  Mooring  went 
along  on  a  burro  and  placed  the  notices  on  the  right 
places.  His  strength  was  returning  almost  as  rapidly 
as  it  had  left  him. 

At  the  end  of  two  days  they  had  placed  the  require^ 
ments  of  the  law  on  all  of  the  ground  they  desired,  and 
the  visitors  were  eager  to  start  on  their  return  journey. 
Mooring  was  anxious  to  begin  the  operations  which 
he  had  planned,  and  Robert  Ray  wished  to  test  the 
samples*  which  he  had  taken  from  various  points  of 
the  claims.  They  arranged  to  leave  early  on  the  fol 
lowing  morning. 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  61 

Mooring  was  up  until  late  in  the  night.  He  spent 
a  good  portion  of  the  time  writing.  Ray  slept  so 
soundly  that  he  knew  nothing  of  his  friend's  late  hours. 
Mokava  and  Tehana  were  also  up  late.  They  were 
preparing  food  for  the  prospectors  to  take  with  them. 

"Our  friends  up  late,  too,  last  night — did  we  bother 
'em  so  they  no  sleep?"  asked  Mokava  next  morning. 

"No,  I  went  to  sleep  as  soon  as  I  went  to  bed  and 
slept  like  a  log  all  night,"  replied  Ray.  "Did  you  not 
sleep  well,  Mr.  Mooring?" 

"Yes — after  I  turned  in,"  explained  Mooring,  look 
out  toward  the  spring. 

"Did  you  not  retire  early?"  asked  Ray,  anxiously. 

"No,"  answered  Mooring. 

"Not  feeling  well?"  inquired  Ray,  staring  into  his 
companion's  face. 

"Never  felt  better  in  my  life — was  at  work,"  ex 
plained  Mooring. 

"Glad  it  was  just  work — but  you  should  have  de 
layed  this  until  we  get  back  to  camp,"  the  cloud  pass 
ing  from  his  face.  "You  frightened  me.  I  feared 
a  relapse.  You  will  need  all  your  strength.  We  have 
a  hard  journey  before  us,  as  you  know." 

"With  what  we  have  found  I  could  endure  anything 
indefinitely,  without  food,  drink  or  sleep,"  boasted 
Mooring. 

"Good!"  cheered  Ray.  "But  I  trust  our  troubles 
are  about  over.  We  know  the  course  now,  and  by 
traveling  early  in  the  morning  and  late  in  ftie  night, 
and  resting  in  the  hotter  portion  of  the  day,  we  ought 
to  make  it  through  without  mishap." 


62  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

Instead  of  striking  out  across  the  desert  as  Ray 
expected,  Mooring  led  his  burro  to  the  spring.  Ray 
followed,  thinking  his  companion  desired  one  more 
draught  of  the  cool  water  direct  from  the  fountain- 
head  before  leaving.  But  instead,  Mooring  nailed  a 
large  piece  of  paper  covered  with  writing  on  a  stake 
made  from  a  cottonwood  sapling.  He  then  drove 
the  stake  deep  into  the  ground  by  the  side  of  the 
spring. 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Ray,  with  astonish 
ment. 

"I  am  securing  this  water  right,"  smiled  Mooring. 

"It  belongs  to  Mokava,"  replied  Ray,  his  face 
whitening. 

"It  belongs  to  me  now !"  laughed  Mooring,  outright. 

"Would  you  still  try  to  rob  the  man  who  has  done 
so  much  for  us;  who  has  divided  what  appears  to 
be  valuable  mining  property  with  us  equally,  and  with 
out  demanding  price?"  inquired  Ray  with  disgust. 

"I  would  do  anything,"  replied  Mooring  in  a  malic 
ious  tone.  "The  devil  that  is  in  a  man  will  crop  out 
after  the  man  has  been  in  the  world  as  long  as  I  have 
and  made  a  failure  at  everything  that  he  has  under 
taken.  Why,  that  spring  is  worth  more  than  a  gold 
mine!  When  we  have  started  the  rush  to  this  place 
I  will  set  my  price  on  that  water.  I  will  sell  it  by 
the  bucketful,  and  dole  out  small  rights  for  big  checks. 
Young  man,  that  is  my  rakeoff  for  the  extra  suffering 
I  have  endured  on  this  trip !" 

"That's  going  too  far;  I'm  through,"  said  Ray,  bit 
ing  his  lips.  "I'll  have  to  quit  you  when  we  reach 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  63 

our  destination.  Humanity  demands  that  we  travel 
together  until  then;  that's  all!" 

"Will  you  abandon  your  interest  in  the  claims?" 
asked  Mooring,  eagerly. 

"No;  we  got  them  fairly,"  said  Ray. 

They  reached  a  rise  in  the  desert.  The  two  men 
stopped  their  burros  on  the  summit  and  looked  back 
for  a  farewell  glance  at  the  green  trees  and  the  rich 
meadow  which  nestled  out  there  in  the  sea  of  sands. 
They  saw  Tehana  running  from  the  spring  to  the 
house.  She  had  seen  the  performance  of  the  elder 
prospector  and  had  gone  to  investigate.  Shortly  after 
the  Indian  woman  entered  the  rock  house  Mokava 
came  out  and  walked  slowly  to  the  spring.  He  stood 
for  a  moment  and  looked  at  the  sign  on  the  stake. 
Then  he  kicked  down  the  timber,  tore  off  the  writing, 
crumpled  it  in  his  hands  and  threw  it  to  the  ground. 

"He's  too  late,  now,"  smiled  the  elder  man  as  they 
proceeded  on  their  journey.  "I  will  record  a  copy  of 
the  notice  and  hold  that  water  against  the  world!" 

"Isn't  possession  worth  something?"  snarled  Ray. 

"Not  for  an  Indian  against  a  white  man,"  smiled 
Mooring  with  a  triumphant  air. 

"He  is  a  white  man,"  retorted  Ray. 

"He  will  have  a  hard  time  proving  it,"  scorned 
Mooring.  "He  has  an  Indian  name,  an  Indian  wife, 
Indian  children  and  will  have  to  stand  for  an  Indian !" 


CHAPTER  VI 
THE  RUSH 

IT  WAS  early  dawn  a  week  after  the  departure  of 
Ray  and  Mooring.  Amosa  and  Grant  had  risen 
early  as  was  their  custom  since  Robert  Ray  had 
entered  their  lives,  and  were  enjoying  the  cool  morn 
ing  breeze  while  their  parents  slept.  A  speck  rose 
upon  the  desert  in  the  distance.  It  moved  up  and 
down  in  such  a  manner  that  it  attracted  the  attention 
of  the  children.  It  was  coming  toward  them.  It 
grew  in  size  as  it  approached  and,  to  them,  its  form 
became  more  mysterious. 

"What  is  that  thing?"  finally  asked  the  boy. 

The  girl  was  silent.  She  thought  she  knew,  but 
could  not  remember  what  name  to  call  it.  It  rose 
above  the  horizon. and  seemed  to  ride  with  the  drift 
ing  sands  like  a  boat  on  the  swell  of  the  ocean.  It 
would  almost  disappear  at  times  and  then  rise  into 
view  above  the  general  level  of  the  desert  again. 

"What  is  it?"  again  inquired  the  boy,  with  childish 
impatience. 

"It  is — it  is  the  thing  that  Nevada  told  us  about 
which  runs  without  a  horse  to  draw  it,"  stammered 
Amosa  in  deep  thought. 

"A  train?"  suggested  Grant. 

"No,  trains  run  on  tracks;  that  thing  comes  across 
the  desert  like  a  coyote — oh,  I  know !"  her  face  light 
ing  up.  "It's  a  choo-choo  wagon.  Don't  you  remem- 


THE  TOU,  OF  THE  SANDS  65 

her  what  Nevada  called  the  new  kind  of  a  thing  that 
runs  without  a  horse  or  anything  to  pull  it?" 

Five  men  were  seated  in  the  automobile  which  duly 
arrived.  They  made  direct  for  the  spring,  and  John 
Mooring  was  first  to  alight  from  the  machine.  He 
posted  new  notices,  in  which  he  claimed  the  water 
rights,  and  began  to  establish  a  permanent  camp. 
While  some  of  the  men  were  preparing  breakfast, 
others  busied  themselves  with  the  surveying  instru 
ments,  and  everything  was  bustle  and  hurry. 

Amosa  and  Grant  ran  into  the  adobe  where  they 
found  Mokava  already  aware  of  the  arrival  of  the 
interlopers.  He  had  just  rescued  a  small  rifle  from 
Tehana's  hands,  and  was  taking  the  cartridges  from 
the  magazine. 

"Peace  with  you,  Tehana,"  he  cautioned  in  the  lan 
guage  which  she  understood.  "You  would  bring  ruin 
upon  us.  The  white  men  will  be  coming  as  numerous 
as  the  jack  rabbits  when  the  grass  is  tender  upon  the 
meadow.  We  cannot  stop  them.  But  the  young  pros 
pector  is  not  there.  He  is  our  friend.  He  will  return. 
He  will  help  us.  He  will  not  let  them  take  all  of  our 
water  from  us.  He  would  not  let  the  old  coyote  take 
even  the  worthless  rocks  on  Burro  Hill." 

"I  have  no  faith  in  the  pale  faces — they  are  not  like 
you,  Mokava.  You  just  like  Indian  in  your  ways," 
replied  Tehana.  "I  would  kill  the  old  coyote.  He 
brought  the  others  here.  It  is  he  who  has  taken  our 
water,  and  that,  too,  after  you  brought  him  from  the 
desert  and  put  the  life  back  in  him.  That  is  the  way 


66  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

he  pays  you;  that  is  the  pale  face  way.  They  do  not 
do  as  the  Great  Spirit  would  have  us  do." 

"But  have  I  not  always  counseled  you  right?"  asked 
Mokava.  "It  will  all  be  well  in  the  end.  Other  white 
men  will  come,  and  with  them  our  young  friend.  He 
will  not  desert  us.  Be  patient  until  then." 

Mokava  walked  slowly  out  to  where  the  men  were 
engaged  in  work  and  greeted  them  cordially.  Moor 
ing  spoke  sulkily  and  displayed  firearms. 

"Squaw  man,"  he  began,  "we  might  as  well  have 
an  understanding  at  once.  I  have  taken  this  ground 
and  the  spring,  under  the  law.  But  I  am  going  to 
do  the  right  thing  by  you.  I  will  not  molest  your 
buildings  nor  your  yard.  But  on  the  site  of  the 
meadow  I  shall  establish  the  business  portion  of  the 
new  town,  which  we  are  going  to  build.  And,  as 
another  mark  of  generosity,  I  shall  give  you  a  perpet 
ual  right  to  obtain  drinking  water  from  the  spring. 
So  long  as  you  accept  these  terms,  we  shall  get  along 
all  right.  If  you  refuse,  then  I  shall  exercise  my 
rights  against  you  as  I  shall  against  others!" 

"Where  the  young  man — your  friend?"  asked  Mo 
kava. 

"He  is  not  my  friend — he  and  I  quit!"  smiled 
Mooring. 

"This  is  my  partner,  now,"  continued  Mooring, 
after  watching  Mokava' s  bewildered  expression  for  a 
time,  pointing  to  a  big,  burly  fellow,  who  wore  a 
large  revolver  buckled  about  his  waist. 

The  big  man  smiled  his  approval  of  what  Moor 
ing  had  said,  but  the  surveyor  and  his  assistant  indi- 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  67 

cated  that  they  were  not  parties  to  the  transaction; 
that  they  were  merely  employed  to  do  the  work  of 
laying  out  the  new  town.  The  chauffeur  was  busy 
cleaning  the  sand  from  the  machinery  of  his  auto 
mobile. 

"You  men  look  enough  alike  to  be  brothers,"  sug 
gested  the  surveyor,  glancing  back  and  forth  between 
Mooring  and  Mokava.  "You  ought  to  be  able  to  set 
tle  your  differences  accordingly." 

"I  no  understand,  very  well,"  replied  the  settler. 
"I  know  not  what  you  call  right.  I  found  this  place 
many  years  ago  when  no  one  care  for  it.  I  make  it 
my  home.  No  one  trouble  me  before.  I  always  help 
white  man  and  red  man  when  they  come  this  way. 
[t  my  home,  share  it  with  all  alike.  I  thought  it  mine. 
No  know  what  you  call  right.  But  want  to  do  right. 
I  no  want  to  do  wrong,  and  no  want  wrong  done  me. 
It  been  mine  so  long.  Now  you  say  it  yours.  Don't 
understand  ?" 

"Law  is  law,  Squaw  Man,  and  you  will  have  to 
accept  our  terms,"  replied  the  big  fellow,  coming  for 
ward  as  if  he  would  drive  Mokava  away. 

"It  may  be  white  man's  law,  but  it  no  seem  right !" 
replied  Mokava,  humbly,  and  returned  to  his  house. 

The  work  of  surveying  continued  for  several  days. 
A  townsite  was  laid  out  with  regulation  streets  and 
alleys,  leaving  the  settler's  little  home  plot  to  itself. 
Mokava  had  not  been  molested  further,  and  had  gone 
on  using  water  from  the  spring.  He  showed  his  old- 
time  hospitality  and  furnished  the  intruders  with  such 
supplies  as  he  could  spare  when  they  ran  short.  They 


68  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

assured  him  that  he  would  be  repaid  when  their  freight 
wagons  arrived,  but  Mokava  informed  them  that  he 
did  not  expect  the  return  of  the  articles,  as  he  con 
sidered  it  his  duty  as  a  neighbor. 

Before  the  week  was  ended  the  place  was  cverrun 
with  strangers.  Men  arrived  in  automobiles,  wagons, 
on  burros  and  on  foot.  Camps  were  started  all  around 
the  settler,  and  a  saloon  was  opened  in  a  tent  near 
the  spring,  for  the  privilege  of  which  the  proprietor 
paid  Mooring  and  his  partner  a  snug  sum  of  money. 
Wagons  loaded  with  supplies  and  building  material 
began  to  arrive  almost  hourly,  night  and  day.  Every 
morning  found  new  saloons,  restaurants  and  lodging 
houses  open  for  business  in  tents,  and  on  lots  which 
Mooring  and  his  partner  had  sold. 

A  rival  town  was  started  adjoining  the  survey  made 
by  the  first  arrivals,  but  lack  of  water  made  it  a  poor 
competitor.  Mooring  and  his  partner  sold  water  by 
the  bucketful  to  the  settlers  of  the  new  town,  but  gave 
drinking  water  free  to  those  who  purchased  lots  from 
them. 

"You  see,  we  are  treating  you  right,"  explained 
Mooring  to  Mokava  one  day.  "I  give  you  water,  even 
for  your  stock.  Others  have  to  pay!" 

Mokava  did  not  respond.  He  could  not  see  the 
justice  in  the  matter,  but  had  resigned  to  the  white 
man's  way — at  least,  until  Robert  Ray  should  return. 
Ray  had  shown  such  a  spirit  of  honesty  when  Moor 
ing  tried  to  take  the  squaw  man's  claims  that  Mokava 
hoped  to  see  him  intercede  again. 

But  Robert  Ray  was  oblivious  of  the  real  situation 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  69 

at  the  new  camp.  He  knew  that  a  rush  was  on,  but 
did  not  suspect  its  magnitude.  He  and  Mooring  had 
traveled  to  Goldfield  more  like  strangers  than  com 
panions.  The  breach  over  the  treatment  of  Mokava 
had  widened.  Upon  their  arrival  in  the  camp,  from 
which  they  had  started  out,  Mooring  left  the  work 
of  having  assays  made  of  their  samples,  and  the  record 
ing  of  notices  of  the  filings  on  their  claims  to  Ray. 
Mooring  looked  to  the  plans  which  he  had  formed  on 
his  way  out.  They  met  but  once  after  their  arrival. 
It  was  when  Ray  turned  over  copies  of  the  certificates 
of  the  assays  made  of  the  Burro  Hill  samples.  Large 
as  they  were,  Ray  saw  from  the  camp  newspapers  that 
they  had  been  magnified  several  times. 

Next  Ray  noticed  that  the  newspapers  were  devot 
ing  most  of  their  space  to  the  new  discovery.  He  had 
never  known  such  exaggeration,  even  in  the  wildest 
days  in  Colorado.  They  told  of  a  "Modern  King 
Solomon,"  in  the  guise  of  a  "Hermit  Squaw  Man"  and 
his  "mountain  of  solid  gold,  surrounded  by  gurgling 
springs  of  crystal  water  and  valleys  of  green ;  an  oasis 
— a  heaven,  free,  beckoning  for  everybody  to  come!" 

Ray  could  hear  nothing  else  on  the  streets.  They 
would  not  listen  to  him.  The  stage  of  listening  to 
men  had  passed.  They  went  to  the  cold  black  type 
of  the  newspapers  to  get  facts. 

Mooring  had  disappeared.  Outfits  were  leaving, 
night  and  day.  Ray  took  his  time.  He  had  to  record 
the  filings  on  the  Burro  Hill  claims,  taken  up  by 
him  and  Mooring  and  Mokava,  both  in  the  office  of  the 
county  clerk  and  with  the  register  of  the  mining  dis- 


70  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

trict.  He  was  besieged  by  men  who  wanted  to  buy 
an  interest  in  his  claims.  They  would  not  listen  to 
his  conservative  statements  about  the  new  field,  and  he 
would  not  sell.  He  was  absorbing  the  excitement. 
Perhaps  he  was  the  part  owner  of  a  new  Monte  Cristo ! 

But  he  went  about  his  work  of  getting  ready  to 
return  to  the  new  discovery  without  haste.  He  secured 
credit  easily  and  purchased  such  supplies  as  he  thought 
he  would  need,  and  fell  in  with  a  party  that  now  fol 
lowed  a  beaten  highway  back  over  the  trail  which 
Mooring  and  Ray  had  made  in  coming  in. 

When  Ray  arrived  at  the  new  camp  he  could  hardly 
believe  that  it  was  the  same  place  that  he  and  Moor 
ing  had  left  a  few  days  before.  Two  towns  were  under 
headway,  and  the  lonely  abode  of  the  settler  of  a  few 
days  before  was  now  in  the  midst  of  the  most  bustling 
little  city  Ray  had  ever  beheld.  Promoters  and  brok 
ers  were  establishing  themselves,  and  every  available 
inch  of  ground,  even  out  into  the  desert,  was  being 
filed  upon  and  staked  under  the  mining  laws.  Pros 
pect  holes  were  being  sunk  near  every  outcropping  of 
rock.  Assayers  were  running  their  little  furnaces  day 
and  night,  and  were  getting  results.  With  all  of  his 
conservative  nature,  Robert  Ray  was  forced  to  believe 
that  he  had  made  a  great  discovery  in  the  desert. 

Mooring  had  guessed  right  when  he  predicted  that 
the  spring  was  worth  more  than  a  gold  mine.  With 
out  water  the  properties  could  not  be  developed.  With 
out  water  a  town  could  not  be  built.  Everybody  and 
everything  depended  upon  the  spring  which  Ray  found 
in  the  possession  of  Mooring  and  his  partner.  Through 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  71 

greed  they  were  making  it  more  difficult  to  others 
every  day.  They  had  sunk  a  reservoir  to  catch  the 
overflow,  and  even  fenced  the  small  stream  that  ran 
off  from  this,  so  as  to  compel  everybody  to  buy  every 
drop  of  water  from  them.  Water  that  flowed  beyond 
the  fence  was  quickly  absorbed  by  the  desert  sands. 

Experts  stated  that  the  supply,  if  properly  developed, 
would  be  adequate  for  all  demands,  but  the  high  prices 
charged  by  the  jumpers  had  made  it  almost  prohibitive 
for  other  than  drinking  purposes.  Mokava  said  there 
was  not  another  source  within  a  hundred  miles.  He 
had  traveled  in  the  desert  in  all  directions,  and  had 
chosen  the  place  because  of  its  isolation. 

The  water  question  had  reached  the  exploding  point. 
It  was  conceded  that  Mooring  and  his  partner  had  a 
technical  right  under  the  law,  but  many  argued  that 
there  was  always  a  power  that  was  superior  to  what 
they  called  a  poor  law ;  that  there  were  occasions  when 
the  unwritten  should  override  the  written  law;  that 
the  occasion  had  now  risen,  and  that  the  will  of  the 
majority  should  abrogate  the  unjust  claims  made  to 
the  only  source  of  supply  of  water  in  that  entire  region. 
They  recalled  the  fact  of  the  settler's  thirty  years  of 
occupancy;  the  manner  in  which  Mooring  had  first 
filed  on  the  supply;  the  necessity  for  water  on  the 
part  of  the  public  gathered  out  there  in  a  little  world 
of  its  own ;  the  high  prices  charged  by  the  men  in  pos 
session.  The  patent  could  be  resisted  in  the  courts, 
it  was  true,  but  that  would  mean  a  long  delay. 

They  turned  to  Robert  Ray.  They  needed  a  leader. 
They  had  been  waiting  for  Ray.  He  had  the  cause 


72  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

of  the  settler  more  at  heart  than  any  other,  and  it 
was  through  Mokava's  claims  that  they  hoped  to 
secure  a  better  adjustment. 

"Let  us  drive  the  jumpers  from  the  ground  with 
out  further  delay!"  they  said. 

"It  will  cost  bloodshed.  We  may  as  well  prepare 
for  that!"  suggested  a  member  of  the  committee  who 
had  called  on  Ray. 

"I  do  not  believe  Mr.  Mooring  will  seriously  resist 
with  force,"  replied  Ray. 

"But  his  partner  will — he  is  a  desperado — he  would 
rather  have  trouble  than  not,  and  they  have  employed 
some  gunmen!" 

"Who  is  this  fellow?  Where  did  Mr.  Mooring  get 
him?"  asked  Ray,  who  had  arrived  the  night  before, 
and  had  met  but  few  of  the  tumultuous  throng  that 
had  preceded  him. 

"Brush — Andy  Brush,  and  a  more  consummate  look 
ing  scoundrel  never  came  to  a  new  mining  camp!" 
was  the  reply. 

"I  do  not  think  we  should  fear  this  man — any  man 
who  is  in  the  wrong,"  replied  Ray.  "That  does  not 
worry  me,"  he  continued  after  a  long  pause.  He  was 
thinking  of  Mooring's  daughter.  Should  he  lead  these 
men  against  the  father,  it  mattered  not  how  just  the 
cause,  the  daughter  would  be  against  him.  Then  he 
had  other  scruples.  "My  sympathies  are  with  your 
cause,  gentlemen.  I  will  aid  you  in  any  kind  of  a 
legitimate  fight  against  these  men,  but  you  doubtless 
realize  my  awkward  position  in  the  matter.  Mr. 
Mooring  and  I,  as  you  know,  came  prospecting  to- 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  73 

gether.  Finding  this  camp  was  due  to  our  joint  ef 
fort — or  accident.  You  know  the  law  of  prospecting 
— a  prospector  should  never  turn  against  his  pal!" 

"He  turned  against  you — threw  you  down!"  inter 
jected  one  of  the  men. 

"That  wouldn't  justify  me  in  retaliating,"  replied 
Ray,  neither  admitting  or  denying  the  charge  against 
Mooring. 

"But  you  are  the  man  to  lead  us,"  urged  one  of  the 
men.  "Mokava  has  waited  for  you.  He  depends 
upon  you.  We  have  all  waited  for  you.  The  matter 
has  been  delayed  too  long  already.  Your  leadership 
would  be  disinterested.  We  all  feel  that  way  about  it. 
You  are  the  friend  of  Mokava.  You  are  in  a  measure 
responsible  for  his  protection.  The  man  with  whom 
you  came  to  his  place  has  abused  your  hospitality.  The 
camp  believes  you  are  on  the  square." 

"You  do  not  understand  what  it  might  mean  to  me 
— no  one  will  ever  know,"  replied  Ray,  as  he  thought 
of  the  girl  with  the  big  brown  eyes  again.  "Go  to 
Mr.  Mooring.  Go  once  more!  Reason  with  him. 
Surely  some  kind  of  argument  ought  to  reach  the 
man's  sense  of  justice-!" 

The  committee  went  immediately  to  the  spring. 
They  found  Mooring  talking  with  prospective  cus 
tomers  while  his  partner  stood  at  the  entrance  of  the 
enclosure.  He  was  heavily  armed,  as  were  others  who 
were  stationed  about  the  place,  and  who  looked  dog 
gedly  at  every  one  who  approached. 

"He  is  an  Indian — a  squaw  man,  at  best,"  replied 
Mooring  to  the  men  who  urged  Mokava's  claims. 


74  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

"We  have  acquired  our  rights  under  the  laws.  Would 
you  ignore  the  law  through  sympathy  for  a  half-savage 
out  here  who  happened  to  pitch  his  tepee  near  a  spring 
in  the  desert  ?  Would  you  retard  immigration  and  the 
upbuilding  of  the  country  through  mere  sentiment? 
No,  we  will  not  surrender  our  rights  to  have  them 
grabbed  by  others!  Tell  Traitor  Ray  to  come  on — 
that  we  will  defend  our  possessions  to  the  last  ditch!" 

The  big  fellow  smiled  approval  of  what  Mooring 
had  said,  and  glanced  about  at  his  armed  companions 
with  a  knowing  wink. 

Robert  Ray  was  awaiting  the  result  of  the  confer 
ence  with  deep  concern.  But  no  one  detected  his  agi 
tation.  He  was  the  old  master  of  himself.  The  hour 
had  arrived  when  he  must  take  an  important  step. 
He  could  have  gone  on  and  pursued  his  course  inde 
pendently  of  Mooring,  and  without  antagonizing  him, 
could  have  faced  the  daughter,  should  he  ever  meet 
her  again,  without  feeling  hampered  by  the  estrange 
ment  from  her  father.  But  should  he  be  forced  to 
lead  a  fight  against  the  father,  the  daughter  would 
never  learn  the  facts,  except  from  prejudiced  lips. 

And  the  ruffian  might  have  died!  How  had  the 
girl  explained  it  all  ?  She  and  her  mother  would  ulti 
mately  come  to  the  new  camp.  Ray  would  come  face 
to  face  with  her  again  some  day!  But  as  the  leader 
of  a  faction  against  her  father,  what  chance  would  he 
have  to  talk  with  her  and  learn  all?  Would  she  join 
her  father  in  their  controversy,  and  even  brand  him 
as  a  murderer,  if  it  became  a  valuable  asset  in  the  fight 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  75 

for  her  father  ?  He  had  heard  it  said  that  no  one  can 
account  for  what  a  woman  may  do ! 

It  was  while  Ray  was  meditating  along  these  lines 
when  the  committee  returned  from  the  conference  with 
Mooring.  They  informed  him  briefly  of  what  had 
taken  place,  emphasizing  Mooring's  personal  defiance 
to  Ray. 

"I'm  a  traitor,  am  I?"  repeated  Ray  with  a  smile. 
It  was  a  dangerous  smile.  The  old  steel  in  his  eyes 
grew  lighter.  The  fire  began  to  burn.  It  was  too 
late  to  turn  back. 

"Then,  gentlemen,  I  am  at  your  service  in  what 
ever  capacity  you  name!"  said  Ray,  in  ominous  calm 
ness. 

"There  he  goes  now — it  is  Brush  calling  the  remain 
der  of  his  guards  to  duty,"  said  one  of  the  men  ex 
citedly,  looking  across  the  street. 

Ray  glanced  in  the  direction  indicated.  His  eyes 
flashed  like  those  of  a  tiger  who  had  suddenly  discov 
ered  its  most  hated  enemy.  His  muscles  sprung,  as  if 
voluntarily,  to  high  tension.  His  body  bent  forward 
for  a  second  as  if  he  would  go  alone  to  recover  the 
spring.  Then  a  wicked  smile  passed  over  his  coun 
tenance,  and  he  said  calmly: 

"Gentlemen,  let  us  not  delay — let  us  go  and  take 
the  water  and  deliver  it  up  to  the  true  owner  for  his 
own  disposal !" 


CHAPTER  VII 
THE  WIDENING  OF  THE  GULF 

EVERY  man  in  camp  hurriedly  joined  the  one 
side  or  the  other.  The  majority,  however,  was 
against  Mooring  and  Brush.  But  the  latter  had 
secured  a  small  following  among  their  customers,  and, 
added  to  these  were  their  hired  gunmen  and  Mexi 
cans,  who  had  drifted  in  with  the  rush.  These  quickly 
assembled  at  the  spring. 

Robert  Ray  took  the  lead  of  the  attacking  party. 
But  he  adopted  a  most  unique  plan.  The  discovery  of 
his  old  adversary  of  the  night's  adventure  in  San 
Francisco  at  the  head  of  the  fighters  for  Mooring,  had 
removed  a  great  load  from  his  mind.  The  horror  of 
possible  murder  had  never  left  his  mind.  Now  he 
was  determined  to  avoid  bloodshed,  if  it  could  be  done. 

His  followers  were  ready  to  fight  and  fight  desper 
ately,  and  unto  death.  They  were  gathering  from 
every  direction  and  were  armed  with  every  conceivable 
kind  of  weapon.  From  the  latest  improved  rifle  and 
revolver  they  brought  with  them  the  crudest  weapons, 
some  carrying  awkward  looking  sticks  and  rocks. 
Many  came  barehanded,  but  with  a  look  of  determina 
tion  that  boded  greater  danger  than  the  most  up-to- 
date  weapons. 

Those  men  out  there  from  everywhere,  far  from 
courts  and  officers,  each  felt  a  responsibility  that  was 
personal — more  binding  than  those  who  depend  upon 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  77 

the  minions  of  the  law  to  enforce  justice.  They  went 
about  the  matter  as  if  each  man  was  personally  called 
upon  to  execute  a  decree  that  would  meet  with  the 
approval  of  his  own  conscience.  They  had  weighed 
every  phase  of  the  case.  The  fact  of  the  settler's  long 
possession,  his  kindness  to  those  who  had  come  that 
way — especially,  his  act  of  rescuing  Mooring  from  the 
desert  and  nursing  him  back  to  life  again  under  his  own 
roof;  Mooring's  subsequent  ingratitude;  Mokava's  gen 
erosity  with  his  claims  on  Burro  Hill,  which  were  the 
richest  in  the  camp — all  had  been  discussed  by  the 
men  who  were  now  judge,  jury  and  sheriff.  The  tech 
nicalities  of  the  law  were  brushed  aside  and  the  real 
facts  had  been  weighed  in  the  real  scales  of  equity  and 
justice.  The  decision  was  unanimous,  and  final. 

Robert  Ray  looked  at  them  with  a  smile  playing 
upon  his  face.  His  eyes  were  as  penetrating  as  the 
blue  steel  from  which  they  took  their  color.  He  told 
them  to  lay  aside  their  weapons.  They  looked  at  him 
with  surprise.  Again  he  smiled  and  asked  them  to  lay 
aside  the  weapons. 

"We  don't  need  them  to  handle  those  fellows — I  will 
take  care  of  the  leader,  barehanded,  and  you  men  will 
surely  be  able  to  manage  that  handful  of  greasers!" 
said  Ray.  He  then  directed  the  men  to  form  in  a  line, 
four  deep,  placing  himself  at  the  head  of  where  he 
wished  the  column  formed. 

His  coolness  worked  like  magic.  The  men  quickly 
laid  aside  the  weapons  and  began  to  fall  in  line.  There 
was  some  confusion  at  first,  as  each  man  wanted  to 
get  in  front  next  to  Ray. 


7S  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

But  after  a  short  delay  Robert  Ray  led  the  long 
column  of  unarmed  but  determined  men  right  up  to 
the  fence  which  surrounded  the  spring.  The  guards 
stood  ready  to  fire,  but  the  audacity  of  the  unarmed 
men  in  front  of  them  weakened  their  purpose.  They 
turned  to  Brush  for  instructions.  Mooring  was  no 
where  in  sight.  Ray  was  now  within  handtouch  of 
Brush.  He  pierced  the  eyes  of  Brush  with  his  look 
of  steel.  Every  muscle  of  the  young  man  was  now 
taut  and  ready  for  action.  Brush  looked  at  him  for 
a  second  with  a  faint  expression  of  recognition.  Then 
a  doubt  as  quickly  passed  over  his  face.  Then  Ray 
knew  from  the  glance  that  followed  that  Brush  had 
not  recognized  him.  He  was  disappointed  at  first. 
The  old  fight  in  him  called  for  another  round  with 
the  big  ruffian,  but  he  quickly  realized  that  it  was  not 
a  matter  now  between  him  and  the  head  of  the  guard, 
but  a  question  of  proprietorship  of  the  water. 

"Well,  what  is  it?"  demanded  Brush,  still  holding 
his  rifle  ready  for  action. 

"We  have  come  to  take  possession  of  the  spring," 
replied  Ray,  calmly.  "We  prefer  to  do  it  peaceably, 
but  we've  come  to  take  it!" 

Brush  was  silent  for  a  moment.  The  wall  of  un 
armed  men  which  now  stood  before  him  looked  like 
a  mountain  of  impenetrable  armor  before  him.  He 
knew  that  it  was  indestructible;  that  he  might  fire  his 
leaden  missiles  against  it,  and  through  it,  but  it  would 
not  affect  the  cause  behind  it. 

While  he  was  standing  thus  transfixed,  Mooring 
came  hurriedly  from  some  nearby  cover.  He  looked 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  79 

at  Brush  and  then  at  the  determined  men  who  stood 
behind  Ray. 

"Shall  we  shoot?"  asked  Brush,  sheepishly. 

"No,  no,  no!"  replied  Mooring.    "Let  us  arbitrate!" 

"There  is  nothing  to  arbitrate/'  said  Ray.  "We 
have  already  decided  the  matter.  Our  decision  is  that 
everything  within  an  area  of  one  hundred  and  sixty 
acres  belongs  to  Mokava.  This  includes  water  and 
all  other  rights.  Any  one  occupying  a  foot  within 
that  territory,  unless  he  is  able  to  show  a  permit  from 
Mokava,  is  a  trespasser.  Make  your  terms  with  the 
settler  or  begin  to  vacate.  This  is  our  decree.  It  is 
final!" 

"We  will  divide  it  with  him.  We  have  been  offered 
one  hundred  thousand  dollars  for  the  water  rights 
alone.  Let  us  split  it  with  the  squaw  man,"  suggested 
Mooring.  "If  we  had  not  come  it  would  never  have 
been  worth  anything  to  him!" 

"Our  coming  did  not  affect  his  rights,"  smiled  Ray. 
"It  belongs  to  him — it  matters  not  how  much  it  is 
worth,  or  why  it  is  worth  it.  You  are  in  the  same 
position  as  others.  The  man  or  men  who  make  terms 
with  Mokava  will  get  it!" 

"I  give  it  to  all  you,  just  as  I  have  it,"  interjected 
Mokava,  who  had  been  a  bewildered  spectator.  "The 
Great  Spirit — God,  He  give  it  to  all  alike.  It  belongs 
to  everybody.  Let  everybody  help  self  to  water!" 

"You  do  not  understand,  Mokava,"  explained  Ray. 
"You  come  first.  You  have  it  by  right  of  possession. 
It  is  yours  according  to  custom — under  the  law.  No 
one  shall  take  it  from  you  without  compensation.  It 


8o  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

is  valuable.  This  is  a  community  now.  It  will  be 
much  larger.  The  water  must  be  developed  and  hus 
banded  for  the  many.  Some  one  may  do  it  and  make 
money  by  it.  Some  one  will  do  it.  But  this  some 
one  must  first  pay  you  for  the  right.  Everybody  will 
get  an  even  chance  in  this  way.  Whoever  pays  the 
most  shall  have  the  right.  But  you  must  first  be  paid !" 

"Appoint  a  committee  to  confer  with  us,"  suggested 
Brush,  who  had  been  a  silent  listener,  but  who,  at  the 
same  time,  had  held  his  rifle  ready  for  instant  action. 

"You  may  confer  with  us — we  are  a  committee  of 
the  whole,"  replied  Ray,  recalling  that  he  had  heard 
some  such  an  expression  in  a  school  affair  once. 

"But  you  are  making  this  a  one-sided  affair !"  inter 
jected  Mooring. 

"You  have  been  trying  to  make  it  one,"  smiled  Ray. 

Mooring  and  Brush  held  a  short  consultation.  Then 
Mooring  suggested  that  he  and  Brush  should  have 
the  first  right  to  purchase. 

"The  only  first  rights  are  those  of  Mokava,"  said 
Ray.  "Everybody  shall  have  an  equal  right  to  pur 
chase  these." 

"Then  let  us  think  over  it  until  tomorrow?"  re 
quested  Mooring.  "Let  us  then  meet  together  and 
come  to  terms." 

"There  is  no  objection  to  meeting  tomorrow,  pro 
vided  that  you  now  surrender  this  spring  to  the  pub 
lic.  Tell  your  armed  friends  there  to  disband,"  said 
Ray. 

"This  is  pretty  tough !"  replied  Mooring. 

"It  is  your  only  alternative — and  we  have  no  fur- 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  81 

ther  time  to  parley,"  said  Ray,  noting  that  the  men 
behind  him  were  growing  impatient. 

Mooring  and  Brush  again  talked  together  in  a  low 
tone.  Brush  was  obstinate,  but  Mooring  was  a  diplo 
mat.  He  knew  that  it  was  useless  to  resist  further. 
His  only  hope  lay  in  yet  getting  some  advantage  in 
final  adjustment.  They  spoke  to  their  men.  They 
all  walked  away  sullenly.  They  knew  now  that  they 
would  henceforth  be  unpopular  in  the  camp.  They 
had  had  to  yield. 

"In  the  meantime/'  said  Ray,  "the  water  rights  shall 
be  free  to  all  alike,  just  as  they  were  when  you  and  I 
first  came,  Mr.  Mooring." 

"As  you  will  it,  Mr.  Dictator!"  replied  Mooring, 
with  an  expression  of  sarcasm. 

Ray  smiled,  as  the  men  disbanded  and  gathered 
around  the  spring  and  began  to  quench  their  thirst 
from  the  crystal  water. 

Mooring' s  big  partner  gave  Ray  a  long,  penetrat 
ing  look  as  he  walked  away  with  his  rifle  under  his 
arm.  Ray  was  too  busy  receiving  the  congratulations 
of  his  companions  about  the  spring  to  notice  the  act 
of  the  big  fellow. 

The  meeting  the  following  day  was  a  formal  mat 
ter.  Men  work  fast  in  a  new  mining  camp.  The  de 
tails  had  all  been  arranged  the  previous  night.  A  com 
pany  had  been  formed  and  Mokava's  interest  was 
appraised  and  purchased.  He  was  given  cash  and 
securities  to  the  amount  of  one  hundred  thousand 
dollars  for  his  water  rights.  A  perpetual  right  was 


82  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

reserved  to  the  town  of  free  water  for  fire  and  other 
public  uses. 

The  camp  hurried  on  in  its  mad  growth.  The  build 
ing  of  new  towns  in  the  desert  over  night  was  a 
common  occurrence  in  Nevada  in  the  early  portion  of 
1900.  Coyotes  and  jack  rabbits  were  frightened  from 
their  dens  and  burrows  by  the  rush  of  gold-seekers 
when  the  yellow  metal  was  discovered  in  these  wastes. 

It  was  a  problem  at  first  how  to  rescue  the  wealth 
from  these  forbidding  stretches  of  rolling  hills  and 
moving  sands.  But  men  had  crossed  the  plains  in 
1849  and  washed  it  from  the  gravel  and  sands  of  unin 
habited  California.  They  had  even  fought  their  way 
through  hostile  Indian  bands  to  reach  the  place.  Then 
they  climbed  the  snow  peaks  above  the  clouds  and 
tapped  the  rich  deposits  of  Leadville.  Cripple  Creek 
next  yielded  her  secret  vaults  from  their  supposed  im 
pregnable  heights.  Then  came  the  Klondike,  even  in 
the  shadow  of  the  Arctic  pole.  Through  mountains 
of  snow,  over  glaciers  and  peaks,  down  into  the  very 
heart  of  eternal  winter,  men  burrowed  their  way,  and 
again  rescued  yellow  gold  from  its  icy  retreat. 

But  when  it  was  discovered  out  in  the  desert  sands, 
on  the  very  borders  of  Death  Valley,  the  accursed  spot 
of  earth,  the  bravest  shook  their  heads  and  said  that 
nature  had  at  last  found  a  hiding  place  safe  from  the 
avaricious  hand  of  man.  She  had  guarded  it  this 
time  with  long  stretches  of  alkali  plains,  over  which 
roamed  nothing  but  death;  where  blew  heat-laden 
winds  whose  scorching  breath  seared  and  killed  every 
thing  they  touched;  where  rain  was  turned  into  pois- 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  83 

onous  vapor  the  instant  it  struck  the  earth,  and  where 
men's  flesh  dried  and  baked  even  while  they  moved 
about ;  where  the  brain  was  addled  by  the  burning  sun ; 
where  the  strongest  succumbed  to  the  consuming  heat 
of  nature's  great  furnace. 

But  men  did  not  fail.  They  swept  down  into  the 
desert  with  greater  fury  than  that  of  the  elements. 
Some  fell,  it  is  true,  but  others  passed  on.  A  moment 
to  rake  the  scorching  sands  over  the  parching  body 
of  a  fallen  comrade,  and  on  and  on,  into  the  stifling 
furnace  men  rushed,  as  if  it  were  merely  a  pleasure 
trip. 

First  the  man  with  his  pick  and  shovel  and  his  hardy 
burro  wormed  his  way  through  the  hot  blasts  and 
blinding  dust  across  the  seething  sands  into  the  defiles 
of  the  mountains  ribbed  with  white-heated  rocks. 
Though  men  and  animals  perished  at  every  step,  others 
staggered  on.  A  survivor,  more  lucky  than  the  others, 
occasionally  found  protruding  from  the  baking  walls 
ledges  of  quartz  sprinkled  with  gold.  He  had  only 
to  break  off  a  piece  with  his  prospecting  pick  and  hurry 
back  with  it  over  the  death-route  to  civilization  again. 
When  the  assayer's  test  told  the  story  a  new  star  had 
risen,  and  the  discoverer  found  himself  rich  beyond 
all  his  dreams. 

The  man  in  the  automobile  followed  his  trail.  A 
town  was  plotted.  Men  on  burros,  on  foot,  in  all  man 
ner  of  vehicles  followed.  The  ground  thereabouts 
was  all  staked.  The  nearest  water  was  posted  and 
the  laying  of  pipes  begun.  Mining  companies,  water 
companies,  light  companies — every  kind  of  company 


84  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

and  trade  and  calling  organized  and  opened  business. 
The  overflow  of  the  business  and  professional  world 
ran  like  a  mill  race  to  fill  this  new  vacuum  of  oppor 
tunity.  Where  yesterday  was  a  barren  desert  spot, 
thirty  days  hence  was  a  rag  city  with  postoffice,  tele 
phone,  stage-line,  express  company,  with  railroads, 
water  plants  and  lighting  equipment  on  the  way.  These 
were  not  isolated  cases,  and  one  of  the  most  typical 
was  the  one  founded  by  the  accidental  discovery  of 
the  home  of  Mokava  by  Robert  Ray. 

With  the  proceeds  of  the  sale  of  his  spring  Mokava 
considered  himself  rich  beyond  the  dreams  of  avarice. 
He  had  never  before  had  as  much  as  one  hundred  dol 
lars.  He  was  puzzled  about  what  to  do  with  his 
money.  But  the  sale  of  his  spring  was  but  the  begin 
ning  of  his  fortune.  The  forced  act  of  justice  toward 
him  assured  justice  to  him  all  around.  Mooring  and 
Brush  now  had  unlimited  capital  behind  them.  They 
offered  another  hundred  thousand  dollars  for  his  home 
stead  rights,  with  the  reservation  that  he  should  retain 
his  home  plot  and  improvements.  This  he  quickly 
accepted. 

Then  another  company  was  organized  which  took 
over  the  Burro  Hill  group  of  mining  claims  located 
by  Mooring,  Ray  and  Mokava.  Mokava  was  now 
money-mad  and  took  cash  for  his  interest,  which  made 
him  the  richest  man  in  camp.  Robert  Ray  and  John 
Mooring  accepted  stock  in  the  new  company  for  their 
interest. 

Then  came  the  naming  of  the  town.  Mooring  and 
Brush  had  secured  a  name  from  the  government  for 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  85 

the  postoffice,  but  their  attempt  to  steal  the  home 
and  spring  of  Mokava  had  so  turned  the  people  against 
them  that  they  would  not  consent  to  the  new  name. 
Word  had  just  reached  the  place  that  the  name  of 
Annette  had  been  selected.  Then  it  was  learned  that 
this  was  also  the  name  of  Mooring' s  wife.  Another 
meeting  was  called  and  the  naming  of  the  town  created 
an  excitement  similar  to  that  caused  by  the  fight  over 
the  settler's  rights  to  the  spring. 

Mooring  and  Brush  insisted  on  the  name  of  An 
nette  because  the  government  had  adopted  it.  They 
urged,  with  effect,  that  different  names  for  the  post- 
office  and  town  would  prove  confusing  to  the  outside 
world. 

"Why  not  name  it  for  the  man  who  blazed  the  way?" 
asked  Robert  Ray,  following  his  question  with  a  strong 
eulogy  of  Mokava.  He  had  accepted  the  gauntlet 
thrown  down  by  John  Mooring  when  the  latter  branded 
him  as  a  traitor,  and  he  was  determined  that  Mooring 
should  now  feel  his  power.  His  advocacy  of  the  name 
of  the  settler  for  the  new  town  had  struck  a  keynote 
and  upon  a  final  vote  the  name  of  Mokava  was  adopted. 

Thus  showered  with  wealth  and  honor  the  settler 
was  dazed.  It  was  a  dream  more  than  realized.  He 
trod  the  air  like  a  spoiled  boy  who  had  come  into 
his  indiscreet  father's  fortune  without  reservation.  His 
happiness  knew  no  bounds.  But  not  so  with  Tehana. 
When  she  affixed  her  mark  to  the  deed  which  con 
veyed  their  possessions  she  did  it  with  silent  lips  and 
a  sad  heart. 

"Let  us  fly  away  to  our  old  home  near  the  Land 


86  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

of  Fire!"  she  said  in  her  native  tongue  when  she  and 
Mokava  were  alone.  "I  see  great  trouble  coming.  No 
more  shall  we  have  our  cool  water  and  green  grass. 
I  hear  my  native  tongue  no  more.  Our  children  are 
wandering  farther  away  every  day.  They  forget  their 
mother  already.  Nevada  has  strayed  into  another 
world,  and  Grant  and  Amosa  are  following  her  as 
fast  as  the  jack  rabbit  runs.  Let  us  leave.  These  pale 
faces  make  my  heart  sick." 

"No,  no.  It  shall  not  be  so,"  replied  Mokava  in 
the  speech  of  his  wife.  "I  will  always  be  with  you. 
It  is  for  our  children.  We  will  make  a  great  man  of 
Grant.  He  will  be  greater  than  any  chief  who  ever  led 
your  tribe.  And  Nevada  and  Amosa!  They  shall  be 
educated  in  the  white  tongue.  They  shall  play  the 
white  man's  music  and  sing  the  white  man's  songs. 
They  will  cause  our  hearts  much  joy!" 

As  the  days  passed  Tehana  did  not  change  her  mind. 
The  settler  was  too  busy  to  spend  any  more  time  than 
his  meals  with  his  family.  Amosa  and  Grant  were  be 
wildered  with  the  attention  bestowed  on  them.  Te 
hana,  only,  was  morose  and  brooded  over  that  which 
gave  the  others  so  much  joy. 

"Let  us  go,"  she  pleaded  time  and  again  with  her 
husband  in  her  soft  jerky  tongue.  "I  prefer  the  lonely 
home  in  the  desert  and  the  low  songs  of  the  wind  to 
the  music  which  comes  from  the  dance  halls.  I  like 
the  stars,  which  shine  so  softly,  better  than  the  lights 
which  glare  from  the  poles  in  the  streets.  I  would 
rather  rest  within  the  sound  of  the  desert  lion's  cry 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  87 

and  the  call  of  the  coyote  than  lie  awake  at  night  in 
this  terrible  den  of  the  pale  faces." 

"Be  patient,  all  will  come  right  after  a  while," 
soothed  the  settler.  The  only  thing  soothing,  how 
ever,  was  that  he  spoke  in  her  native  tongue. 

Burro  Hill  stock  climbed  by  the  day  and  Robert 
Ray's  fortune  increased  accordingly.  But  John  Moor- 
ing's  wealth  poured  in  from  a  dozen  sources.  He  was 
behind  or  heavily  interested  in  every  live  enterprise, 
and  there  were  but  few  that  were  not  bringing  in  large 
profits.  He  and  Robert  Ray  had  met  but  once  when 
there  were  not  others  present  since  Ray's  repeated 
victories  for  the  settler.  It  was  on  the  street  late  at 
night.  Ray  was  on  his  way  to  his  room  and  Moor 
ing  was  heading  for  his  hotel.  Mooring  was  first 
to  speak. 

"Well,  young  man,  you  seem  to  be  running  the  town 
about  your  own  way.  How  does  it  feel  to  be  the  Big 
Mitt?" 

"You  give  me  too  much  credit,  Mr.  Mooring,"  re 
plied  Ray,  modestly.  "The  people  of  the  town  are 
running  it,  and  I  happen  to  feel  that  they  are  running 
it  about  right." 

"If  it  hadn't  been  for  you,  Brush  and  I  would  have 
been  better  off  by  a  half  million  dollars,"  continued 
Mooring,  vindictively. 

"I  believe  you  are  again  mistaken,  Mr.  Mooring," 
replied  Ray.  "I  fear  that  if  it  hadn't  been  for  me 
and  some  of  my  conservative  friends,  even  a  million 
dollars  wouldn't  be  worth  much  to  either  you  or  Brush 
at  this  time." 


88  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

"What  do  you  mean?"  asked  Mooring,  musingly. 

"Why,  those  hot-headed  people  would  have  mobbed 
—killed  you!" 

"Oh,  you  are  posing  as  a  life  saver,  now,  are  you?" 
returned  Mooring,  sarcastically. 

"No,  but  you  ought  to  know  that  if  we  hadn't 
chosen  to  make  the  call  on  you  without  arms  that 
there  would  have  been  shooting,  and  that  you  and 
Brush  would  have  been  the  first  targets  from  our  side," 
explained  Ray. 

"Tut,  tut,  Mr.  Captain !  That  is  as  childish  as  some 
of  your  other  ideas,"  replied  Mooring,  haughtily. 
"Forget  it,  along  with  your  little  victories  over  me. 
It  means  only  your  ultimate  ruin.  I  will  have  to  take 
the  conceit  out  of  you,  I  see  that.  Now,  just  take  a 
little  stock  as  you  go  along;  the  war  is  just  beginning 
between  you  and  I — I'm  going  to  run  you  out  of  this 
camp  a  tramp!  Either  you  or  I  will  walk  out,  and 
I  expect  to  ride  out  on  a  palace  car!  Do  you  under 
stand?" 

"I  hope  you  will  not  have  to  be  carried  out,  as 
you  were  brought  in — I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Moor 
ing,  that  was  too  coarse,"  replied  Ray,  apologetically. 

"Don't  get  off  any  sarcasm  at  my  expense,  young 
man!"  growled  Mooring.  "You  understood  me — do 
you  accept  my  challenge?" 

"Do  you  mean  that  one  or  the  other  of  us  will  have 
to  leave  camp?"  inquired  Ray,  his  eyes  beginning  to 
flash. 

"That  is,"  modified  Mooring,  "I  do  not  mean  that 
either  should  undertake,  physically  to  run  the  other 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  89 

out  of  camp,  but  that  he  will  do  it  through  influence — 
personal  and  financial/' 

"Oh,  well,  as  I  have  not  much  of  either,  I  suppose 
you  will  win  with  hands  down,"  replied  Ray.  "It  is 
not  my  purpose  intentionally  to  hurt  any  one,  either 
physically  or  financially,  but  if  my  regular  course, 
which  will  be  pursued  along  the  same  lines  in  future 
as  in  the  past,  should  run  anybody  out  of  town  they 
will  have  to  go." 

"You  mean  you  will  keep  up  the  same  old  fight?" 
inquired  Mooring. 

"I  shall  pursue  my  own  course." 

"Then  I  will  use  my  own  weapons — and  remember, 
you  go  out  of  camp  on  foot !"  said  Mooring,  contemp 
tuously,  as  he  walked  away. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
VISIONS  OF  MOKAVA 

THE  town  of  Mokava  continued  to  grow  like 
magic.  The  wealth  of  its  prospects  was  adver 
tised  near  and  far.  Two  newspapers  and  scores 
of  weekly  stock  letters,  issued  by  brokers,  repeated 
the  wonderful  growth  of  Mokava  and  the  wealth  of 
its  mines.  Other  camps  and  towns  sprung  up,  and 
rival  newspapers  told  of  their  wonderful  possibilities, 
but  the  town  of  Mokava  continued  to  lead.  It  had  the 
water,  and  water  was  the  drawing  card  in  the  desert. 
A  railroad  was  now  on  the  way  and  its  tracks  were 
being  laid  night  and  day.  Every  morning  a  new 
terminus  was  established  and  great  walls  of  freight  of 
every  description  were  piled  out  in  the  desert  for  the 
freight  teams  which  lined  the  way  to  Mokava.  Moor 
ing  and  Brush  had  laid  out  the  town  on  a  broad  scale. 
Wide  streets  and  alleys  had  been  graded,  where  grad 
ing  was  necessary,  and  a  beautiful  plot  stretched  out 
on  the  former  meadow  of  the  settler.  Incandescent 
bulbs  lighted  every  corner  throughout  the  night  from 
a  plant  which  had  been  rushed  in  on  freight  wagons 
from  the  latest  terminus  of  the  railroad.  Houses  of 
every  description,  built  of  corrugated  iron,  plank,  old 
boxes,  tin,  bottles,  cloth — everything  that  would  af 
ford  shelter,  stood  side  by  side  in  ludicrous  comparison. 
The  fact  that  title  was  furnished  from  Mooring  & 
Brush  upon  no  other  basis  than  a  quit-claim  deed  from 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  91 

the  settler  did  not  retard  the  sales  which  were  made 
at  a  large  sum  by  the  front  foot.  In  addition  to  the 
newspapers,  hotels,  saloons,  gambling  dives,  dance 
halls,  and  an  imposing  red-light  district,  a  large  num 
ber  of  mercantile  establishments  had  been  opened. 
Mooring  &  Brush  had  also  started  a  bank.  The  town 
of  Mokava  was  mad  with  excitement.  It  was  too  iso 
lated  yet  to  have  its  resources  verified,  and  whether  its 
foundation  was  true  or  false  mattered  not  with  its 
present  growth.  What  cared  the  men  who  were  drunk 
on  money?  Work  on  claims  ceased,  but  the  printing 
presses  kept  time  with  the  gambling  devices.  Both 
ran  night  and  day.  The  one  printed  stock  certificates 
with  green-colored  backs  and  golden  fronts,  which 
brought  in  postoffice  money  orders,  bank  drafts  and 
checks  from  the  outside  world;  the  other  relieved  the 
indiscreet  brokers  of  these  about  as  fast  as  they 
came  in. 

While  the  town  Mokava  was  blustering  on  in  its 
mad  growth,  the  man  Mokava  was  beyond  restraint. 
How  could  he  ever  spend  all  of  the  money  which  he 
had  received  for  all  of  his  holdings?  His  small  per 
sonal  demands  did  not  even  appear  to  disturb  his  bank 
account.  He  had  refused  to  speculate,  but  Mooring 
had  pretended  friendship  and  agreed  with  Mokava  that 
the  hatchet  was  forever  buried  between  them  and  Mo- 
"kava  had  placed  his  money  in  the  latter' s  bank. 

Robert  Ray  would  not  have  approved  of  this  move 
on  the  part  of  the  settler,  but  he  had  not  been  con 
sulted,  anyway.  Besides,  it  was  the  only  bank  in  town 
and  the  safest  place  for  Mokava's  money  for  the  pres- 


92  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

ent.  Then  Mooring  &  Brush  were  doing  a  wonderful 
business  and  they  were  perfectly  solvent.  Another 
bank  was  being  organized  and  Ray  would  keep  Mo- 
kava's  interest  in  mind. 

But  Mokava  was  not  long  in  finding  a  way  to  spend 
money.  Public  enterprises  were  needed.  Lawlessness 
demanded  a  town  hall  and  a  jail.  Christian  workers 
reached  the  place  and  began  the  work  of  helping  the 
unfortunate  and  building  places  of  worship.  Charity 
demanded  its  toll  from  newly  acquired  wealth.  Mo 
kava  responded  liberally.  Mooring' s  selfish  warn 
ing  for  Mokava  to  keep  his  money  in  the  bank  was 
no  more  effective  than  the  friendly  advice  of  Robert 
Ray  to  conserve  his  funds. 

"I  am  doing  it  for  Nevada/'  he  would  whisper  to 
Ray. 

This  was  after  he  had  completed  a  home  for  him 
self  on  the  old  town  plot  at  ap  expense  that  would 
have  appeared  extravagant  to  the  most  injudicious 
spendthrifts.  He  had  furnished  it,  too,  without  re 
gard  to  cost,  and  had  ordered  a  piano  of  the  finest 
make.  The  pianist  at  a  dance  hall  had  chosen  the  in 
strument  for  him  and  received  a  commission  both 
ways. 

"It  is  all  for  Nevada,"  he  would  say. 

But  Mokava  was  not  neglectful  of  his  Indian  wife. 
He  bought  for  her  apparel  which  she  would  not  wear, 
and  which  she  cast  aside.  Even  in  the  building  of 
the  fine  home  and  its  equipment,  the  old  improvements 
were  not  disturbed.  The  rock  house,  the  adobe  and 
the  tepee  back  in  the  rear  occupied  their  places  with 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  93 

their  furnishings  unchanged.  They  were  just  as  Ray 
and  Mooring  had  found  them  on  their  first  arrival. 

The  new  home  was  completed  and  furnished  to  the 
last  drapery  when  the  piano  arrived.  The  dance  hall 
musician  suggested  that  Mokava  should  entertain  his 
friends.  This  was  a  welcome  suggestion.  It  har 
monized  with  the  dreams  that  were  constantly  in  the 
mind  of  Mokava.  He  would  entertain  his  friends,  and 
everybody  was  his  friend. 

A  subsequent  night  found  the  new  home  lighted 
throughout  and  a  motley  throng  in  the  height  of 
raucous  hilarity.  Capitalists,  brokers,  gamblers,  pros 
pectors,  saloon  men,  and  women  from  the  dance  halls, 
drank  and  danced  and  ate,  swore  and  laughed,  sang 
and  cried,  until  late  hours  in  the  morning.  Dance  hall 
musicians  pronounced  Mokava' s  piano  the  finest  in 
camp,  and  Mokava's  heart  swelled. 

Tehana  stayed  close  in  her  tepee.  The  drunken  rev 
elers  tried  to  drag  her  forth,  but  she  stubbornly  held 
her  place.  When  Mokava  went  to  persuade  her  to 
come  and  meet  his  friends,  she  said  in  her  native 
tongue : 

"They  make  big  fool  of  you ;  they  cannot  make  fool 
of  me.  It  will  not  last.  Mokava  let  his  white  blood 
run  him  crazy.  It  will  be  different.  You  will  wake 
up  very  soon." 

"It  is  all  for  Nevada !"  replied  Mokava. 

"She  is  lost  now,"  replied  Tehana.  "Grant  and 
Amosa  are  the  same  as  lost  to  me,  too.  Money  af 
fects  you  the  same  as  fire  water  affects  Indian,  Mokava. 
But  you  will  sober  up!" 


94  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

Despite  the  character  of  many  of  the  guests,  the 
interior  of  Mokava's  home  reminded  the  more  thought 
ful  ones  of  their  own  homes  and  their  families  and 
aroused  that  feeling  that  comes  to  every  man  in  the 
solitudes.  Many  of  them  had  come  to  the  desert  to 
cast  their  last  dice  in  the  game  of  fortune,  and  many 
of  them  were  now  enthusiastic  in  the  belief  that  they 
were  holding  the  high  hand.  They  believed  that  the 
town  of  Mokava  was  destined  to  be  a  city,  and  that 
with  the  coming  of  all  of  the  things  that  cities  bring 
the  place  would  be  a  suitable  habitation  upon  which 
to  settle  for  life. 

"As  soon  as  we  get  schools  I  will  bring  in  my 
family,"  remarked  one.  This  was  taken  up  by  a  group 
of  men  who  began  discussing  the  matter  seriously. 
They  had  churches  started,  and  other  public  institu 
tions,  but  had  overlooked  schools,  as  there  were  no 
children  yet,  except  the  half-breeds  of  Mokava. 

"I  build  a  school  house,"  said  Mokava,  who  had 
overheard  the  conversation. 

"But  it  will  be  too  late  this  season,"  explained  an 
attorney.  "The  tax  levy  was  made  while  the  town  of 
Mokava  was  merely  an  oasis  out  here  in  the  desert. 
No  thought  was  then  given  to  the  fact  that  gold  would 
be  discovered  at  its  threshold,  and  that  a  city  would 
spring  up  before  the  year  was  over.  There  has  been 
no  provision  for  funds  to  sustain  a  school  in  the  dis 
trict  of  Mokava." 

"I  employ  teacher — bring  on  your  families!"  said 
Mokava. 

The  conversation  was  interrupted  by  some  late  arriv- 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  95 

als.  Mokava  rushed  to  the  door  and  greeted  one  of 
the  men  with  open  arms.  It  was  his  old  friend, 
Thomas  Lansing,  the  surveyor  who  had  taken  Nevada 
to  the  Indian  school  for  Mokava.  Lansing  had  ac 
companied  the  superintendent  of  the  new  railroad  and 
the  manager  of  the  construction  department  to  Mokava 
on  a  business  trip.  They  had  come  to  make  final 
arrangements  about  depot  and  terminus  grounds.  The 
road  was  now  within  fifty  miles  of  the  place  and  would 
advance  its  temporary  terminus  ten  miles  nearer  within 
a  week.  While  the  railroad  men  were  being  enter 
tained  by  Robert  Ray,  who  was  now  the  president  of 
the  chamber  of  commerce,  Mokava  was  plying  Lansing 
with  questions. 

"I  saw  her  two  months  ago,"  explained  the  sur 
veyor.  "She  is  well  and  happy,  except  that  she  longs 
to  see  you  and  the  children  and — her  mother.  She 
will  graduate  at  the  head  of  her  class  next  month. 
She  is  the  favorite  with  her  teachers  and  her  class 
mates  and  everybody  that  sees  her.  She  gets  pret 
tier  every  day,  Mokava.  She  does  not  show  her  In 
dian  blood,  except  in  her  eyes,  and  looks  odd  in  her 
surroundings — looks  like  an  angel  among  those  other 
descendants  of  the  savage  race." 

"No  say  savage,  friend!  Her  mother  no  savage. 
She  good  woman.  She  better  than  any  of  the  white 
women  here.  They  drink  and —  Tehana  no  think  of 
doing  what  they  do.  Look  now,"  concluded  Mokava, 
pointing  to  one  of  his  women  guests  who  was  in  the 
middle  of  the  floor  dancing,  with  her  dress  pulled  far 


96  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

above  her  knees  and  staggering  and  singing  in  maud 
lin  condition. 

"This  is  not  a  fair  sample,"  replied  Lansing.  "Wait 
until  the  better  element  of  women  come — the  wives 
and  daughters  of  men!" 

"Are  not  these  the  daughters  of  men?"  asked  Mo- 
kava  earnestly. 

The  party  was  breaking  up.  The  crowds  were  shak 
ing  the  hand  of  Mokava  and  thanking  him  for  the  first 
entertainment  in  the  camp.  It  was  all  whole-souled 
appreciation,  and  Mokava  received  the  compliments 
like  a  blushing  child.  When  the  railroad  men  left  they 
were  accompanied  to  the  door  by  Ray,  Mooring  and 
Brush. 

"We  have  just  invited  your  friends  here  to  come 
out  next  week  and  be  our  guests  for  a  day  at  our 
camp,"  said  the  railroad  superintendent.  "We  have 
asked  them  to  bring  along  a  few  friends.  We  shall 
expect  you." 

Mokava  looked  to  Ray  for  approval  and  receiving 
it,  accepted  the  invitation. 

When  the  last  guest  had  departed  each  had  carried 
away  the  assurance  of  Mokava : 

"Bring  on  your  familities.  I  build  school  house  and 
furnish  teacher!" 

It  was  in  the  hushed  silence  of  the  night  that  Mokava 
saw  visions  of  his  own  forming.  They  were  selfish 
visions  at  that.  He  had  never  entertained  selfish 
thoughts  before.  Yet  it  would  perhaps  be  doing  him 
an  injustice  to  call  them  selfish.  They  were  design- 


THE  TOLL,  OF  THE  SANDS      97 

ing,  it  is  true,  but  they  were  plans  for  his  own  flesh 
and  blood.    He  did  not  consider  himself  in  the  matter. 

"I  will  build  the  school  house,"  he  soliloquized. 
"That  will  bring  the  men's  wives  and  their  children. 
I  told  them  I  would  employ  the  teacher.  I  will.  Ne 
vada  will  come  soon.  She  will  arrive  when  the  other 
women  are  coming.  She  will  meet  them.  She  is  edu 
cated  now  and  will  be  one  of  them." 

Then  his  thoughts  became  too  close  to  his  heart  for 
utterance.  He  saw  them  spread  out  on  a  background 
like  a  moving  picture  drama.  He  saw  Nevada,  the 
daughter  of  Tehana,  in  the  new  school  room  which 
he  had  planned,  and  which  he  now  saw  standing  out 
on  the  hill  overlooking  the  town.  She  was  teaching 
the  children  of  the  white  people.  Amosa  and  Grant 
were  among  her  pupils.  There  on  the  site  of  the  old 
home,  where  they  were  born — in  a  state  of  semi-sav 
agery — Nevada  and  Amosa  and  Grant  would  be  ac 
cepted  upon' an  equal  footing  with  the  other  people  of 
the  town  which  bore  his  name. 

He  saw  Nevada  at  her  piano  entertaining.  Lansing 
had  told  him  she  was  proficient  in  music.  Nevada 
would  raise  the  family  out  of  the  depths  to  which 
he  had  dropped,  and  from  which  the  children  had 
sprung.  His  own  flesh  and  blood  would  do  it!  It 
was  the  white  man's  God  after  all  that  had  sent  the 
thirsty  prospectors  to  his  lonely  abode  in  the  desert. 

Thus  dreamed  Mokava,  who  bore  no  name  except 
the  one  the  Indians  had  given  him.  Thus  hoped 
Mokava,  who  knew  not  how  he  had  been  lost  or  found 
out  there.  But  he  finally  fell  asleep  and  his  dreams 
were  repeated  over  and  over. 


CHAPTER  IX 
WHAT  FLUNKEY  OVERHEARD 


'TT^RY  to  keep  sober  today,  Flunkey;  there  will 
be  big  doin's,"  cautioned  the  head  cook.  "The 
big  bosses  are  going  to  dine  with  us  and  they 
will  have  guests  from  the  city  of  Mokava.  We  want 
to  show  them  that  the  Desert  Construction  Company 
can  do  something  besides  build  railroads.  We  want 
to  show  them  that  we  know  how  to  prepare  chuck 
and  serve  it  to  the  bon  tons;  that  feeding  hoboes  is 
not  the  limit  of  our  culinary  art." 

"I'll  need  half  a  dozen  bracers  to  do  justice  to  the 
occasion/'  replied  a  medium-sized,  bewhiskered  man 
with  several  weeks  of  extra  growth  of  hair  on  an 
otherwise  well  shaped  head,  at  the  same  time  adopting 
action  to  his  words  by  taking  a  flask  from  a  hidden 
corner  and  pouring  a  goodly  portion  of  its  contents 
into  an  ordinary  coffee  cup. 

"Go  slow  there!"  cautioned  the  first  speaker. 

"Did  you  ever  see  me  unequal  to  an  occasion?"  re 
plied  the  short  man  with  a  question,  as  was  his  cus 
tom. 

"I  have  seen  you  when  I  wouldn't  like  to  be  an  occa 
sion  depending  upon  you,"  smiled  the  man  at  the  coal 
range. 

The  two  laughed  over  the  wordy  altercation,  though 
it  was  the  one  thousandth  of  a  similar  kind.  It  was 
the  privilege  of  every  one  to  stir  up  Flunkey  when  they 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  99 

felt  like  it.  A  fellow  out  there  liked  the  idea  of  being 
rasped  occasionally  by  a  smooth-toothed  file,  and  those 
who  rubbed  up  against  Flunkey's  repartee  usually  got 
it  to  the  quick,  and  it  furnished  amusement  for  the 
others. 

The  construction  camp  had  been  astir  since  long 
before  daylight  in  preparation  for  the  coming  of  the 
Mokava  party.  Men  had  been  required  to  clean  up 
and  the  camp  generally  wore  a  Sunday  appearance. 
The  railroad  superintendent  had  not  secured  the  signa 
tures  of  Mooring  &  Brush  to  the  deed  to  the  terminal 
grounds  at  Mokava,  and  he  expected  to  close  the  mat 
ter  that  day. 

"Fill  your  punch  with  sticks,"  he  had  said  to  the 
camp  bartender,  "and  don't  let  your  cocktails  go  to 
sleep!" 

"Try  'em  on  me  first,"  suggested  Flunkey,  after 
the  superintendent  had  passed  on  with  instructions  for 
others. 

The  visitors  arrived  at  the  noon  hour  in  automobiles, 
dust-stained  and  hungry.  The  punch  and  cocktails 
were  welcomed  by  those  who  drank,  and  a  good  fel 
lowship  was  established  before  the  luncheon  began. 

"No,  no!  I  no  drink,"  said  Mokava,  "I  see  too 
much  trouble  already  from  drinking  fire  water  when 
I  was  boy  among  Injuns." 

Robert  Ray  tipped  the  glasses  lightly  for  sociabil 
ity's  sake.  John  Mooring  drank  formally  and  glanced 
at  Brush  with  a  look  of  warning.  Brush  reddened 
and  drank  moderately.  Other  members  of  the  party 
imbibed  according  to  their  inclinations  and  prejudices. 


ioo  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

The  meal  was  finished  and  cigars  were  being  passed 
when  the  construction  manager  called  for  his  entertain 
ers.  He  said  that  it  was  rather  an  impromptu  pro 
gram.  Quartets  of  singers  came  forth  in  overalls  and 
jumpers,  and  sang  songs  out  there  in  the  desert  that 
brought  tears  and  laughter  tolhe  audience;  monolo- 
gists  came  out  in  freshly  washed  ducks,  with  unkempt 
heads  and  unshaven  faces  and  received  encores  for 
original  jokes,  adapted  to  the  occasion;  clowns  came 
forward  and  forced  tears  of  laughter  from  men  who 
had  seen  the  best  performances  in  the  world;  Shakes 
pearian  readers  recited  extracts  from  the  immortal 
bard  that  stirred  men's  very  souls.  From  the  sublime 
to  the  ridiculous,  the  construction  camp  furnished  ex 
ponents  of  every  phase  of  life  in  its  true  and  dramatic 
colors  in  the  way  of  entertainment  for  the  visitors. 

"You  see,"  said  the  construction  manager,  "we 
have  representatives  here  from  every  walk  of  life.  We 
have  not  only  showmen,  but  artists,  lawyers,  doctors, 
musicians — every  profession,  trade  and  calling.  They 
fail  for  one  reason  or  another,  take  to  the  road  or  get 
in  jail,  and  after  being  compelled  to  move  on  from 
town  to  town  and  city  to  city,  until  they  have  all  the 
spirit  knocked  out  of  them,  they  fall  in  with  us. 

"We  give  them  substantial  food  and  a  place  to  sleep. 
This  satisfies  them  for  a  time  and  they  work  like  gal 
ley  slaves.  But  they  finally  tire  of  this,  hope  for  bet 
ter  things,  move  on,  fail  again  or  get  in  jail  and  land 
in  another  construction  camp.  That  is  the  material 
with  which  we  build  railroads  in  this  country.  If  it 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE.'SAjnpS:  ,    ;  ,  ;ipi: 

was  not  for  human  failures  railroad  building  would 
cost  more." 

"And  this  is  the  white  man's  way,"  remarked  Mo- 
kava  in  a  low  voice  to  his  friend,  Robert  Ray. 

"I  nearly  forgot,"  continued  the  host.  "We  have 
a  most  interesting  character  here  whom  I  want  all 
of  you  to  see.  He — but  judge  him  for  yourselves. 
Waiter,  send  Flunkey  out !" 

The  short,  unkempt  assistant  to  the  cook  was  slow 
in  making  his  appearance.  He  had  two  reasons;  he 
was  averse  to  exhibiting  himself  to  a  crowd,  though 
he  was  always  keen  for  a  clash  with  his  friends;  the 
other  reason  was,  he  had  drunk  too  many  of  the  cock 
tails  which  had  been  intended  for  the  guests. 

He  came  after  a  time,  staggering  out  of  the  cook 
car.  He  approached  the  long  plank  table  around 
which  the  party  was  seated,  and  stumbled  up  to  the 
rear  of  the  place  occupied  by  Mooring  and  Mokava. 

"Gentlemen,"  began  the  construction  manager,  "this 
is  Mr.  Flunkey.  He  is  the  double,  inexhaustible  brain 
power  of  the  camp.  He  is  our  walking  encyclopedia — 
when  he  is  able  to  walk — and  when  he  sits,  from  being 
unable  to  walk,  he  still  maintains  his  mental  equilib 
rium!  Flunkey,  meet  the  gentlemen  from  the  great 
mining  city  of  Mokava." 

The  men  rose  about  the  table  and  bowed  with  mock 
politeness  to  the  unique  figure  that  had  been  so  uniquely 
introduced.  Flunkey  forced  open  his  drowsy  eyes 
and  looked  about  the  party  from  face  to  face.  When 
Mooring  and  Mokava  turned  to  greet  him,  Flunkey 
glanced  back  and  forth  at  the  faces  of  the  two  men, 


roa:          THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

his  eyes  protruding  at  first  with  astonishment  and  then 
assuming  a  look  of  vindictiveness  that  shook  his  whole 
body.  His  ringers  drove  their  nails  into  the  palms 
of  his  hands;  his  teeth  clinched  and  he  bent  forward 
for  a  moment  as  if  he  would  leap  at  the  throats  of 
Mooring  and  Mokava.  When  the  paroxysm  passed, 
he  straightened  himself  to  his  full  height  and  walked 
rapidly  away  without  uttering  a  word  or  showing  any 
further  evidence  of  intoxication. 

"That  was  too  much  for  Flunkey — he  thought  he 
saw  doubles !"  laughed  the  railroad  superintendent. 

"Let  us  drink  to  the  health  of  the  blond  twins!" 
shouted  Brush  as  the  men  regained  their  seats. 

"What  he  mean?"  asked  Mokava,  leaning  over  close 
to  the  ear  of  Robert  Ray. 

"He  refers  to  the  resemblance  of  you  and  Mr.  Moor 
ing — you  look  so  much  alike,  you  know,"  explained 
Ray. 

While  the  man  called  Flunkey  was  looking  back 
and  forth  between  Mooring  and  Mokava  the  blood 
left  Mooring's  face  and  an  agitation  took  possession 
of  him  similar  to  that  when  he  first  met  Robert  Ray, 
Not  until  he  joined  in  the  toast  to  himself  and  the  set 
tler  was  he  able  to  throw  off  the  peculiar  sensation. 
All  eyes  had  been  turned  on  Flunkey  during  the  lit 
tle  pleasantry  and  Mooring's  paroxysm  had  passed 
unnoticed. 

When  Flunkey  returned  to  the  cook  car  he  ap 
proached  the  man  who  had  been  waiting  on  the  men 
at  the  table  and  asked  cautiously — 

"Who  are  those  two  men  out  there  that  resemble 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     103 

each  other  so  much  and  what  relation  do  they  bear 
to  each  other?" 

"The  handsome-dressed  fellow  is  Mooring,  the 
banker  at  Mokava,  and  his  double,  the  fellow  wear 
ing  the  hand-me-down  rags,  is  the  squaw  man  for 
whom  the  town  was  named/'  was  the  answer. 

"Mooring!  Mooring!"  repeated  the  assistant  to  the 
cook  several  times,  shaking  his  head  doubtfully. 

Two  hours  had  passed  in  private  discussion  after 
the  meal,  between  Mooring  and  Brush  and  the  repre 
sentatives  of  the  railroad  company,  when  the  former 
two  men  went  to  the  outskirts  of  the  camp  and  seated 
themselves  against  the  wall  of  a  tent  and  engaged  in 
earnest  conversation.  Flunkey,  who  had  never  per 
mitted  the  banker  to  escape  from  sight  after  the  ludi 
crous  introduction,  hurried  along  the  side  of  a  row 
of  tents  and  entered  the  one  against  whose  wall  the 
partners  were  sitting. 

When  he  had  seated  himself  on  a  bale  of  bedding 
near  where  the  men  were  seated,  he  heard  Brush  say : 
"But  the  offer  is  entirely  too  small,  Jack !" 

"I  know  it — at  least  by  fifty  thousand  dollars — but 
we  need  the  support  of  the  railroad  company,"  argued 
Mooring.  "But  if  we  can  get  their  support  and  de 
posits  at  this  end  of  the  line,  and  that  will  necessarily 
bring  the  deposits  of  their  employes,  it  will  help  us 
wonderfully,  probably  save  our  bacon !" 

"But  can't  we  get  them  up  to  twenty-five  thousand 
more?"  suggested  Brush. 

"I  am  afraid  to  dicker  too  much — we  might  drive 
them  away,"  warned  Mooring.  "You  know  the  other 


104  THE  TOLL,  OF  THE  SANDS 

fellows  are  after  them  hard,  and  to  build  the  depot 
that  far  away  would  ruin  our  town  despite  all  of  our 
advantages  of  location. 

"How  will  we  meet  that  fifty  thousand  that  we 
counted  on  in  this  deal?"  asked  Brush,  anxiously. 

"I  have  just  thought  of  a  way  to  bridge  that  chasm 
since  we  have  been  sitting  here,"  replied  Mooring. 
"Old  Mokava  has  drawn  money  right  and  left  of 
late,  and  has  no  idea  how  his  account  stands.  I  write 
and  indorse  all  of  the  checks  for  him,  you  know.  Let's 
see,  he  has  paid  out  fifty  thousand  on  that  big  tepee 
of  his,  ten  thousand  to  furnish  it,  and  that  piano  player 
worked  him  for  fifteen  hundred  for  that  piano.  Then 
he  has  given  five  thousand  on  the  city  hall,  about  ten 
thousand  to  charity  and  churches,  and  has  been  draw 
ing  down  for  plans  on  that  new  school  house.  Then 
he  has  drawn  hundreds  of  small  checks,  besides.  Oh, 
I  can  shake  his  account  down  for  fifty  thousand  dollars 
easy,  on  the  installment  plan,  and  he  will  never  be 
any  the  wiser.  It  will  all  be  in  my  handwriting,  you 
know,  and  in  case  of  a  showdown,  his  word  against 
mine — white  man  against  squaw  man !" 

"But  the  squaw  man  has  been  winning  just  the 
same — and  there's  Bob  Ray,  still  on  earth  and  living 
in  Mokava,"  suggested  Brush.  "He  might  get  a  chance 
to  butt  in;  it's  getting  about  time  for  him  to  stir  up 
another  batch  of  trouble.  Instead  of  relegating  him 
to  the  discard,  you  seem  to  be  aiding  in  having  him 
drawn  for  the  winning  hand  of  late!" 

"Leave  that  to  me,"  boasted  Mooring.     "I  think  I 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     105 

have  about  eliminated  Bob  Ray  as  a  trouble  maker 
for  us.  I  issued  a  sort  of  ultimatum  to  him  a  few 
nights  ago  that  I  think  went  to  the  mark.  We  are 
getting  on  pretty  good  terms  now.  We  have  Mokava's 
money  on  deposit  with  us,  you  know.  Then  our  votes 
cast  for  him  for  the  head  of  the  chamber  of  commerce 
was  not  a  bad  move,  though  he  would  have  been 
elected  anyway.  But  little  acts  like  that,  when  it 
doesn't  cost  anything,  won't  hurt.  Swell  him  up  so 
that  the  fall  of  the  mighty  may  come  the  harder !" 

"The  fellow  may  like  positions  of  importance  as 
other  mortals  do,  but  I  swear  that  I  can  see  no  dif 
ference  in  him,"  remarked  Brush. 

"Oh,  he's  human!"  replied  Mooring.  "He  can  be 
reached  just  as  other  human  beings  are  reached." 

"I  don't  believe  you  can  do  it  by  bluffing,  or  righting, 
from  my  observation,"  philosophized  Brush. 

"Probably  not,"  agreed  Mooring.  "But  I  am  try 
ing  all  of  the  elements — fighting,  kindness,  bluffing 
and  soft  soap.  Which  ever  one  proves  the  most  ef 
fectual  I  shall  adopt  permanently." 

"I  would  guess  that  the  smoother  kind  will  work 
best,"  replied  Brush.  "You  know  him  better  than  I 
do,  but  I  believe  he  is  the  kind  of  a  fellow  that  would 
follow  some  of  those  old  mottoes,  such  as  'Honesty  is 
the  best  policy/  'treat  your  enemies  with  kindness/ 
'but  fight  like  hell  when  you  have  to — if  you  are  in  the 
right!'" 

"Oh,  forget  it!"  smiled  Mooring.  "He's  the  least 
of  our  troubles — I'll  take  care  of  him,"  he  continued, 


io6  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

as  the  two  rose  and  went  to  join  the  remainder  of 
the  party. 

The  deal  was  closed  later  that  afternoon  for  the 
new  railroad  terminal  grounds  at  the  town  of  Mokava. 


CHAPTER  X 
MR.  HORATIO  STALLINGS 

HO  Whim  in!" 

A  medium,  clean-shaven,  well-dressed, 
though  badly  sunburnt  man  with  intellectual 
forehead  entered  the  private  office  of  John  Mooring, 
banker.  Mooring  still  held  the  card  which  bore  the 
name  "Mr.  Horatio  Stallings." 

Upon  looking  into  the  face  of  the  stranger  the 
banker  was  seized  with  one  of  his  peculiar  attacks. 
Stallings  stood  and  gazed  at  him  for  a  moment,  his 
expression  changing  rapidly.  He  seemed  undecided. 
At  one  instant  he  looked  as  though  he  would  seize  the 
banker  by  the  throat,  and  next  he  started  as  if  he  would 
leave  the  room.  But  Mooring  quickly  recovered  and 
explained,  smiling: 

"You  must  excuse  me,  but  I  am  subject  to  vertigo 
at  times.  What  can  I  do  for  you?" 

"I  am  a  bookkeeper  and  expert  accountant,"  began 
the  caller,  who  quickly  recovered  his  equilibrium,  "and 
have  come  to  the  call  of  your  famous  little  city,  which, 
by  the  way,  has  caught  the  eyes  of  the  world.  I  wish 
to  secure  employment  for  a  while,  not  so  much  for 
the  pecuniary  compensation  as  to  get  acquainted  with 
the  actual  conditions.  Privately,"  he  continued  in  a 
lower  tone,  "if  I  can  get  a  practical  insight  into  the 
situation,  and  it  looks  good,  I  shall  be  able  to  control 
outside  capital  for  investment  here." 


io8  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

"Have  you  any  letters?"  asked  the  banker. 

"Not  at  hand,"  smiled  Stallings,  carelessly.  "I 
foolishly  got  my  pocketbooks  mixed  and  the  one  con 
taining  my  credentials  is  in  my  trunk,  which  is  some 
where  in  the  blockade  of  traffic  on  the  tracks  of  your 
new  railroad,  over  which  I  came  in  a  manner  that 
might  be  described  as  traveling  by  fits  and  jerks." 

"That  is  a  pretty  fair  description  of  conditions," 
laughed  Mooring.  "Traffic  is  in  bad  shape,  but  we 
will  be  able  to  clean  it  up  pretty  soon.  We  will  get  a 
through  train  schedule  within  a  month — expect  it 
really  much  earlier.  We  were  out  at  the  present  ter 
minus  two  days  ago  and  completed  the  arrangement 
for  the  new  terminal  grounds  here.  Our  company 
closed  the  deal — by  the  way,  how  much  capital  can 
you  control  for  investment  here?" 

"Considerable,"  replied  Stallings.  "I  can  draw  on 
private  sources  for  a  fair  amount,  and,  if  things  de 
velop  to  a  practical  basis  I  would  be  able  to  interest 
several  larger  concerns,"  he  continued,  mentioning 
firms  whose  names  were  familiar  to  the  banker. 

"Call  this  evening  after  hours,"  instructed  Mooring. 

As  Stallings  was  going  out  he  passed  Mokava.  The 
latter  was  heading  for  Mooring's  private  office.  Stall 
ings  turned  and  gazed  at  the  settler  for  a  moment, 
shook  his  head,  and  went  into  the  street. 

"I  like  lot  on  side  Burro  Hill,"  said  Mokava  on 
entering  the  office.  "It  high  and  healthful  for  teacher 
and  children  up  there,  and  it  show  up  well  to  strangers 
when  they  come  in  on  train." 

"We'll  have  to  have  a  good  figure  for  that  prop- 


THE  TOLL,  OF  THE  SANDS  109 

erty,"  replied  the  banker.  "Brush  says  it  will  make 
a  good  building  site  for  some  of  our  future  million 
aires.  We  ought  to  hold  that  acre  at  ten  thousand 
dollars." 

"I  know,"  replied  Mokava,  "but  the  land  company 
must  do  part — ought  to  sell  cheap  for  school !" 

"Oh,  well,  you  may  have  it  for  seventy-five  hundred, 
old  man,"  agreed  Mooring  after  considerable  dicker 
ing.  "That  ought  to  be  about  right,"  he  continued, 
rising  and  slapping  the  settler  on  the  shoulder  in  a 
familiar  fashion.  "That  will  be  a  donation  on  our 
part  of  twenty-five  hundred — by  the  way,  Mokava, 
we'll  have  to  begin  to  look  out  for  a  teacher !  Fami 
lies  are  beginning  to  come  in  now  and  we  will  have 
a  good  population  of  women  and  children  shortly 
after  the  railroad  reaches  camp.  We  should  show 
them  that  we  mean  business.  A  school  house  is  not 
all.  We  must  announce  that  we  have  employed  a 
teacher  pretty  soon.  Everybody  will  have  a  teacher 
to  suggest,  and  the  sooner  we  settle  on  one  the  quicker 
we  will  avoid  complications.  I  have  a  young  lady 
friend—" 

"No,  no,  no!"  interrupted  the  settler.  "Wait  till 
house  is  done.  Then  let  everybody  help  name  teacher." 

"But  keep  my  choice  in  mind,"  insisted  the  banker 

as  Mokava  hurried  out  of  the  place. 
***** 

Two  weeks  had  passed  since  the  arrival  of  Horatio 
Stallings.  He  had  been  busy  over  the  books  and  let 
ters  of  the  Mooring-Brush  Banking  Company.  He 
could  see  Burro  Hill  from  the  rear  window  of  the 


no  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

banking  building.  The  framework  of  the  new  school 
building  was  climbing  slowly  from  the  foundation. 
Teamsters  were  unloading  building  material  and  car 
penters  were  climbing  about  the  skeleton  of  a  struc 
ture  like  so  many  snails. 

"That  structure  has  already  cost  the  old  squaw 
man  about  fifty  thousand  dollars  according  to  his 
checks,  and  he  hasn't  started,"  meditated  Stallings. 
"It  will  be  interesting  to  sum  up  the  total  when  it 
is  completed  and  furnished !" 

Then  Stallings  shook  his  head  disgustedly  and 
dropped  a  slip  of  paper  into  his  pocket. 

"Mr.  Stallings!" 

"Yes,  sir!"  answered  the  bookkeeper  and  expert 
accountant. 

"Mr.  Mooring  wishes  to  see  you." 

Horatio  Stallings  entered  the  private  office  of 
Banker  Mooring. 

"Stallings,  we've  got  to  meet  a  large  sum  in  drafts 
in  thirty  days,"  began  the  banker.  "The  railroad  will 
be  here  in  another  week,  and  we  expect  to  unload  lots 
and  stock  by  the  wholesale  on  that  occasion,  but  we 
don't  want  to  take  too  much  chance.  How  would  you 
like  to  go  to  the  coast  on  a  scouting  trip  and  try  to 
interest  some  of  the  private  money  of  which  you  spoke, 
and  also  stir  up  some  bigger  guns  by  directing  their 
aim  toward  the  wonders  of  Mokava?" 

"It  is  the  thing  I  would  have  suggested  if  the  initia 
tive  had  been  put  up  to  me,"  replied  Stallings,  enthu 
siastically. 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  in 

"Can  you  leave  on  tomorrow's  auto?"  asked  the 
banker. 

"I  can  start  at  any  time,"  was  the  reply. 

"Then  go  tomorrow.  Take  what  money  you  think 
you  will  need  and  draw  for  more  if  necessary,"  in 
structed  Mooring.  "You  will  be  expected  to  raise 
money !" 

"I  understand,"  bowed  the  accountant  as  he  left  the 

room. 

*       *       #       *       * 

A  knock  came  at  the  door  of  Robert  Ray  late  that 
night.  He  opened  and  Horatio  Stallings  entered  with 
out  waiting  for  an  invitation. 

"Excuse  the  intrusion,"  apologized  Stallings  after 
closing  the  door  behind  him,  "but  I  have  come  on 
important  business." 

"Certainly;  sit  down,"  invited  Ray  suspiciously. 
Robert  Ray  had  become  distrustful  of  every  person 
that  associated  with  John  Mooring  of  late,  and  he 
knew  that  Stallings  was  his  confidant. 

"Mr.  Ray,"  began  the  visitor,  looking  the  young 
man  squarely  in  the  eyes  for  nearly  a  minute  before 
proceeding.  "Mr.  Ray,  I  believe  that  I  can  broach  a 
delicate  subject  to  you  without  excessive  explanations. 
I  am  going  to  confide  in  you  to  a  certain  extent  and 
insinuate  things  that  I  will  not  now  explain.  I  once 
confided  in  men — and  in  women,  too — to  the  utter 
most,  but  I  confide  in  men  now,  only  so  far,  and  not 
to  women  at  all. 

"But  that  is  neither  here  nor  there,"  continued  Stall 
ings,  drawing  his  chair  closer  to  Ray's,  still  looking 


ii2  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

the  young  man  in  the  face  as  if  he  would  read  his  very 
soul.  "If  you  do  not  agree  to  what  I  ask  you  to  do, 
which  I  assure  you  upon  the  honor  of  a  man  who  will 
appear  to  have  no  honor  after  I  have  finished,  shall 
not  involve  you  in  any  manner,  will  you  give  me  your 
word  that  you  will  never  divulge  the  subject  of  my 
errand?" 

"I  do  not  believe  that  I  comprehend  you?"  hesitated 
Ray. 

"If  I  brand  myself  a  villain,  which  time  will  prove 
I  am  not,  and  I  now  ask  you  to  do  a  thing  which  may 
not  meet  your  approval,  will  you  agree  in  advance  to 
forget  this  interview,  so  far  as  others  are  concerned?" 

"Does  it  or  may  it  compromise  me  in  any  manner, 
or  may  it  involve  the  rights  of  others?  Would  my 
silence  harm  any  one?"  questioned  Ray,  boring  his 
eyes  into  those  of  Stallings. 

"It  will  not  involve  the  rights  of  nor  harm  any 
honest  man!"  assured  the  banker's  bookkeeper. 

"Then  I  will  take  a  chance,"  smiled  Ray. 

"You  are  a  friend  of  the  squaw  man  ?"  began  Stall- 
ings. 

"Yes,  I  am  a  friend  of  Mokava's." 

"He  will  do  what  you  ask?" 

"That  is  a  little  strong.  He  would  probably  listen 
to  my  advice,  and  possibly  follow  it,  should  it  appear 
to  be  the  right  thing,"  evaded  Robert  Ray. 

"Then,  to  come  straight  to  the  point,"  continued 
Stallings  in  a  low  voice,  "I  want  you  to  do  two  things 
as  quickly  as  possible — tomorrow,  if  you  can !" 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     113 

Robert  Ray  looked  at  him  for  an  explanation. 

"First,  have  Mokava  withdraw  every  dollar  which 
he  has  on  deposit  at  Mooring  and  Brush's  bank;  sec 
ond,  unload  your  stock  in  the  Burro  Hill  property!" 
warned  the  bookkeeper. 

"But  you  are  employed  by  Mooring  &  Brush!"  sug 
gested  Ray. 

"I  laid  my  predicate,  as  the  lawyers  say,  before  I 
disclosed  the  purpose  of  my  visit  here  tonight,"  smiled 
Stallings,  facetiously. 

"Is  this  move  made  by  you  through  personal  mo 
tives — to  profit  by  it?"  asked  Ray,  indignantly. 

"Not  for  financial  profit,"  answered  Stallings, 
quickly. 

"How  may  a  man  otherwise  profit  in  these  days  of 
money-madness?"  inquired  Ray,  philosophically. 

"Get  revenge!"  scowled  Stallings. 

"Then  this  is  entirely  a  personal  affair  of  your  own, 
and  you  would  drag  others  into  it  to  carry  your  point?" 
retorted  Ray  with  disgust. 

"Personal  affair,  yes,"  replied  Stallings,  "but  there 
is  a  two-fold  purpose  in  dragging  in  others,  as  you 
call  it — I  would  protect  them  at  the  same  time  in 
doing  so." 

"From  your  own  initiative?"  asked  Ray. 

"No,  not  entirely,"  explained  Stallings.  "If  I  must 
go  farther  than  I  intended,  my  part  in  the  matter  is 
only  incidental.  If  I  had  never  appeared  on  the  scene 
you  and  the  squaw  man  would  have  lost  what  I  am 
trying  to  save  you  now.  In  serving  others,  I  am  only 
hurrying  what  would  happen  anyway.  My  interest 


ii4  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

in  you  is  selfish,  in  a  way,  but  you  win  just  the  same 
as  if  it  were  an  act  of  your  closest  friend.  By  thus 
aiding  you  and  hurrying  you  on  to  save  what  you 
are  about  to  lose,  I  get  quicker  the  thrill  that  I  have 
sought  for  nearly  a  score  of  years!" 

"I  believe  that  I  understand  you,  so  far  as  my  inter 
est  and  that  of  Mokava  is  concerned — I  will  do  what 
you  ask,"  consented  Ray,  extending  his  hand. 

Stallings  hurried  out  into  the  night. 


CHAPTER  XI 
MRS.  MOORING  AND  HER  DAUGHTER  ARRIVE 

IS  IN  accordance  with  the  old  saying  that 
it  never  rains  but  it  pours,"  began  John  Moor 
ing  in  the  conference  with  Andy  Brush  in  the 
office  of  their  bank.  "Following  the  withdrawal  of  his 
funds  by  the  fool  squaw  man  came  a  run  on  the  bank  in 
a  small  way.  Men  went  building  mad  after  that 
blowout  at  the  squaw  man's  house,  and  his  beginning 
of  the  new  school  house  started  everybody  to  building 
homes  for  their  families.  That  part  of  it  was  all 
right.  They  put  about  as  much  money  back  for  town 
lots  as  they  took  out  to  buy  material  and  pay  carpen 
ters.  But  Bob  Ray  did  us  more  harm  than  all  the 
good  that  resulted  from  the  building  boom  when  he 
unloaded  his  Burro  Hill  stock  on  the  market.  It 
came  nearly  starting  a  panic  in  stocks." 

"I  thought  you  were  going  to  cop  out  fifty  thou 
sand  plunks  from  the  squaw  man's  account  to  meet 
that  cut  we  made  in  the  railroad  terminus  deal?"  said 
Andy  Brush,  testily. 

"It  was  well  planned  and  would  have  worked  if  the 
old  blockhead  hadn't  gotten  some  kind  of  a  fool  notion 
into  his  head  and  withdrawn  his  funds  so  suddenly," 
explained  Mooring.  "There  was  a  peculiar  coincidence 
about  that  transaction.  If  I  believed  anything  in  the 
idea  that  the  Lord  looks  after  the  weak  in  affairs  ter 
restrial  I  should  credit  Him  with  a  hand  in  the  Mokava 


n6  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

matter.  I  had  begun  to  prepare  for  the  reimbursement 
of  the  fifty  thousand  sacrifice  in  the  railroad  deal  by 
writing  a  check  for  ten  thousand  dollars  against  the 
squaw  man's  account,  and  went  so  far  as  to  indorse  it 
for  him  along  with  other  papers.  I  remember  it  well. 
It  was  the  day  before  Stallings  left. 

"But  the  next  day  Mokava  came  in  on  me  unex 
pectedly  for  his  money  and  brought  Bob  Ray  along. 
When  he  asked  for  his  account,  I  called  it  ten  thousand 
less  than  it  really  was,  to  include  the  bogus  check. 
But  he  is  a  foxy  old  guy,  not  to  be  able  to  read  or 
write.  He  called  for  his  cancelled  checks.  I  got  them, 
or  thought  I  had  them,  but  the  one  for  the  ten  thou 
sand  was  missing.  I  have  never  been  able  to  find  it. 
I  looked  in  every  nook  and  corner  at  the  time  and 
have  since  searched  low  and  high  for  it.  It  must 
have  been  thrown  into  the  waste  basket  or  destroyed 
by  accident.  Anyway,  it  cost  us  an  even  ten  thousand. 
I  had  to  settle  in  full  for  fear  Bob  Ray  would  cause 
trouble." 

"I  thought  you  were  going  to  manage  Bob — that  I 
should  only  leave  him  to  you !"  taunted  Brush. 

"Well,  I  am  not  through  yet,"  replied  Mooring.  "I 
don't  think  he  had  anything  to  do  with  the  squaw 
man  drawing  out  his  funds — I  just  attribute  it  to  some 
fool  notion,  or  over-persuasion  of  the  other  bank  peo 
ple." 

"I  think  I  will  have  to  take  that  fellow  Ray  in 
hand,"  continued  Brush.  "Where  did  you  first  get 
tied  up  with  him,  anyway?  You  have  told  me  about 
everything  else  of  your  connection  with  him,  but  never 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     117 

how  he  first  pulled  the  wool  over  your  eyes,  and  got 
in  with  you." 

"I  met  him  on  the  train  on  my  way  to  Goldfield," 
explained  Mooring.  "In  the  rabble  that  was  rushing  in 
by  rail  and  every  other  way,  I  found  him,  apparently 
the  most  congenial  of  any  of  those  I  met.  He  had  a 
sort  of  technical  education  about  mining  that  I  thought 
might  be  of  use.  When  we  reached  Goldfield  I  sug 
gested  the  prospecting  trip,  and  he  has  been  giving  me 
trouble,  as  you  know,  ever  since.  He  is  too  conscien 
tious — " 

"Suspicious,"  interrupted  Brush.  "Do  you  know," 
he  continued,  "that  it  seems  to  me  I  have  seen  that 
fellow  somewhere  before?  When  he  showed  up  at 
the  spring  that  day,  I  thought  at  first  that  I  knew 
him.  Then  when  he  stood  there  coolly,  as  if  he  owned 
the  earth  and  was  dictating  terms  about  that  water, 
I  was  certain  I  had  run  across  him  in  my  travels.  Then 
as  I  left  the  spring  and  he  walked  in  and  took  posses 
sion  I  was  sure  that  I  had  seen  that  quick  step  of  his 
somewhere.  He  is  as  light  as  a  panther  on  his  feet. 
If  he  had  my  weight  he  could  lick  Jim  Jeffries."  Then 
Brush  mused  to  himself.  "I  sometimes  think — but  it 
couldn't  be.  That  fellow  wore  a  cap  and  he  was  doubt 
less  a  San  Francisco  longshoresman — no  other  could 
have  struck  such  a  blow !" 

"But,  back  to  business,  Andy,"  interjected  Moor 
ing.  "It  is  not  a  question  of  who  or  where  he  came 
from.  His  lack  of  confidence  in  Burro  Hill  proved 
contagious,  and  there  is  no  telling  how  far  the  epi 
demic  will  spread,  if  we  don't  stop  it.  Stallings  writes 


n8  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

me  that  if  it  had  not  been  for  the  flooded  market 
he  would  have  been  able  to  raise  all  of  the  money  we 
need  on  the  Burro  Hill,  alone.  Now  we've  got  to  get 
it  somewhere,  but  Stallings  is  still  on  the  job." 

"And  this  fellow  Stallings,  who  is  he — are  you  sure 
of  your  man  in  his  case?"  asked  Brush. 

"Positively,"  replied  Mooring.  "He  is  keen  as  a 
whip  and  can  get  on  the  inside  of  things  quicker  than 
any  man  I  ever  saw  before." 

"How  did  you  get  him?  Did  he  have  any  refer 
ences?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Mooring,  a  little  piqued.  "While  we 
haven't  come  to  requiring  references  and  certificates 
of  family  trees  in  black  and  white  and  under  seal  out 
here  to  a  universal  extent,  yet,  I  assured  myself  that 
Stallings  was  all  right.  He  gave  the  names  of  con 
cerns  with  whom  he  had  done  business  and  I  wrote 
them  just  before  he  left.  Replies  have  come  since 
his  departure  that  are  perfectly  satisfactory —  Say, 
Andy,"  exclaimed  Mooring,  suddenly  drawing  his 
watch  and  looking  at  its  face,  "I  hadn't  seen  you  since 
I  received  a  letter  yesterday  announcing  the  coming 
of  my  wife  and  daughter.  They  will  arrive  today  on 
the  noon  mail  auto.  It  is  about  due,  and  I  must  meet 
them!  Won't  you  join  me.  I  know  they  will  be  glad 
to  meet  you  again — especially  Ruby!" 

"Yes,  Jack,  it  will  give  me  great  pleasure,"  replied 
Brush.  "I  will  run  by  the  saloon  and  spruce  up  a 
little  and  meet  you  at  the  station." 

While  John  Mooring  was  on  his  way  to  meet  his 
wife  and  daughter  he  thought  of  what  Andy  Brush 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     119 

had  said  about  Robert  Ray.  He,  like  Brush,  imagined 
he  had  seen  Ray  somewhere  before  he  met  him  on 
the  steps  of  the  train  pulling  out  of  Oakland.  The 
young  man  had  entered  his  thoughts  a  hundred  times 
since  they  had  disagreed. 

"What  is  the  trouble  with  Robert  Ray?"  he  again 
asked  himself.  He  recalled  that  Ray  had  been  an  ideal 
companion  on  the  desert.  He  had  always  insisted 
upon  doing  more  than  his  share  of  the  work  involved 
in  prospecting.  He  had  performed  most  of  the  duties 
about  camp  and  had  carried  the  heaviest  burdens  on 
the  trail.  In  this,  one  of  the  severest  tests  to  which 
men  are  subjected,  Robert  Ray  had  always  proved  him 
self  a  man. 

"If  it  wasn't  for  his  fool  idea  of  absolute  justice — 
justice  to  a  technicality — even  against  his  own  inter 
ests,"  commented  Mooring,  mentally,  "he  would  be  an 
ideal  fellow.  I  never  knew  but  one  person  before  who 
stuck  to  truth  so  closely,  and  believed  so  implicitly  in 
honesty.  He  is  so  much  like  her.  And  that  terrible 
feeling  that  came  over  me  when  I  first  met  him — and 
the  atmosphere  about  him — I  have  sometimes  thought, 
and  it  is  not  improbable  out  here  in  this  rush,  where 
people  from  everywhere  on  the  globe  have  come  to 
gether — but,  bosh!  The  past  is  dead,  and  let  it  be 
as  though  it  and  all  who  were  connected  with  it  are 
buried.  John  Mooring,  pull  yourself  together.  Quit 
trembling  when  you  meet  strangers.  Be  yourself — your 
old  self  again — and  the  world  will  soon  be  yours !" 

Two  women  alighted  from  the  mail  automobile. 
After  emerging  from  the  dust-covered  machine,  dust- 


120  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

covered  wraps  and  belongings,  and  after  the  dust-cov 
ered  chauffeur  had  segregated  the  personal  baggage 
of  the  dust-covered  women,  and  they  had  shaken  as 
much  of  the  dust  from  their  clothing  and  persons  as 
would  yield,  Mrs.  Annette  Mooring  bowed  to  Andy 
Brush  and  greeted  her  husband  in  this  strain: 

"Jack  Mooring,  why  did  you  not  tell  us  that  we 
were  to  travel  the  greater  portion  of  the  way  on  a  cat 
tle  train,  and  burrow  our  way  the  remainder  of  the 
journey  in  an  open  freight  automobile,  unprotected 
from  the  sun  and  through  sweltering  heat,  and  over 
miles  and  miles  of  sand  dunes?  Poor  Ruby  is  almost 
dead,  and  if  I  hadn't  been  kept  busy  looking  after  her 
and  telling  those  railroad  men  what  I  thought  of  them, 
I  suppose  I  should  have  broken  down.  Why  didn't  you 
write  us  that  we  were  saying  farewell  to  civilization 
and  coming  to  a  savage  land  ?  We  would  then,  at  least, 
have  been  prepared  for  the  worst — but  nothing  as 
bad  as  this.  Take  us  to  our  cave  at  once.  I  suppose 
you  have  robbed  some  native  of  his  place  of  abode?" 

Miss  Mooring  greeted  Andy  Brush  in  a  friendly 
manner,  though  there  was  a  coldness  about  it  that  he 
clearly  recognized.  Bowing  awkwardly  he  grabbed 
as  much  of  her  baggage  as  he  could  conveniently  car 
ry  and  they  walked  away  together,  following  Moor 
ing  and  his  wife  toward  the  hotel.  Mrs.  Mooring  was 
continuing  her  fusillade  of  comment  on  the  country 
and  everything  it  contained. 

The  motley  crowd  which  had  gathered  at  the  com 
ing  of  the  automobile,  as  was  their  custom,  was  silent 
for  once.  They  had  heard  and  seen  strange  things 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  121 

out  in  the  desert,  but  the  manner  of  Mrs.  Mooring  was 
so  new  to  them  that  they  were  temporarily  at  a  loss 
to  find  words  for  comment.  And  no  one  cared  to  give 
expression  while  she  was  still  in  ear-shot. 

"And  they  wanted  to  name  the  town  for  her!" 
finally  ventured  one. 

"She  must  be  one  of  them  suf — suffer — " 

"Suffragettes/'  finished  another. 

Then  the  ice  was  broken  and  the  members  of  the 
crowd  made  such  comment  as  such  a  scene  in  such 
a  country  would  provoke. 

Robert  Ray  was  standing  on  the  hotel  veranda,  con 
versing  with  some  friends  when  the  Mooring  party 
approached.  Suddenly  he  heard  the  voice  of  Ruby 
Mooring,  intermingled  with  that  of  Andy  Brush.  He 
turned  quickly  as  if  he  expected  to  see  a  ghost.  Moor 
ing  was  near  him  and  raised  his  hat.  Ray  responded 
as  his  eyes  fell  on  Brush  and  the  young  woman.  They 
were  close  behind  Mooring  and  his  wife.  Brush 
glanced  at  Ray,  but  his  hands  were  occupied  with 
Miss  Mooring' s  baggage  and  he  did  not  raise  his  hat. 
The  young  woman  looked  in  the  direction  of  Ray. 
The  blood  suddenly  left  her  face  and  she  reeled  for 
one  instant  as  if  she  would  fall.  But  she  quickly  re 
gained  self-control  and  a  tinge  of  red  followed  in  her 
cheeks.  Her  big,  brown  eyes  looked  straight  ahead. 
Brush  had  not  noticed  her  embarrassment.  No  one 
had  noticed  it  except  Robert  Ray. 

Ray  drew  the  loafers  from  the  path  of  the  new 
arrivals  and  touched  his  hat  again  as  the  party  passed 
into  the  hotel,  and  the  screened  doors  closed  behind 


122  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

them.  Robert  Ray  then  hurriendly  left  the  place. 
Andy  Brush  accompanied  the  party  to  the  door  of  their 
room,  where  Miss  Mooring  turned  and  thanked  him. 
Then  he  returned  to  the  hotel  office  where  he  strutted 
back  and  forth  like  one  who  had  just  achieved  a  great 
victory. 

"Who  was  the  young  man — his  name — father,  who 
touched  the  men  in  the  doorway  of  the  hotel  and 
made  them  get  out  of  our  way  as  we  entered,  and, 
at  the  same  time  raised  his  hat  to  you?"  asked  Miss 
Mooring. 

"That  was  Robert  Ray,"  replied  her  father.  "He 
was  with  me  when  I  discovered  this  camp." 

"His  face  looked  familiar — I,  I — I  thought  pos 
sibly  I  had  seen  it  before — at  first,"  replied  the  girl, 
embarrassed.  "It  is  more  open  than  most  of  those 
we  have  seen  since  we  reached  the  desert.  Most  of 
them  look  so  careworn  and  troubled.  His  has  not 
that  scowl  that  is  on  so  many  faces." 

"You  probably  saw  him  the  morning  I  left  Oak 
land,"  replied  Mooring.  "He  picked  up  that  package 
and  gave  it  to  you  as  I  was  getting  aboard  the  train. 
We  continued  to  travel  together  to  Goldfield,  and  then 
came  prospecting  together.  He  is  too  honest  for  this 
country.  It  is  made  up  of  men  who  have  had  hard 
lives  and  who  are  here  to  make  up  for  past  losses. 
Young  Ray  is  still  in  the  tenderfoot  stage.  He  believes 
in  an  honesty  that  most  men  out  here  have  left  be- 
hin'd.  He  is  the  antithesis  of  Andy  Brush.  Andy  is 
playing  the  game  for  all  it  is  worth.  He  has  already 
ma3e  a  fortune." 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  123 

"I  have  always  boosted  for  Andy,"  interjected  Mrs. 
Mooring  with  the  first  smile  that  had  lighted  her  face 
for  several  days. 

"Is  it  men  of  his  type  that  succeed  out  here?"  asked 
Ruby  with  a  shudder. 

"It  isn't  honesty,  looks  nor  youth,  my  child.  It  is 
the  money  that  counts  nowadays.  Jack,"  she  turned 
to  her  husband,  "have  you  any  sort  of  entertainment 
— women's  clubs,  women's  organizations  of  any  kind 
in  this  God- forsaken  place?  Ruby  and  I  shall  die  if 
we  don't  find  something  to  divert  our  minds  from  this 
terrible  desert  glare.  Poor  girl,  I  thought  we  should 
find  a  new  country — full  of  life — society,  like  we  had 
at  Denver,  Cripple  Creek,  Nome  and  the  other  places. 
Where  there  is  so  much  money  there  ought  to  be  so 
ciety  and  entertainment." 

"We  have  not  had  time  to  provide  these  things," 
Annette,"  replied  the  banker,  meekly.  "But  we  soon 
shall  have  them  all.  The  railroad  will  bring  them. 
It  was  for  this  reason  that  I  rather  desired'your  early 
coming.  Your  services  are  needed  just  at  this  par 
ticular  time  for  that  very  purpose.  The  work  will  be 
ready  for  you  just  as  soon  as  you  get  rested.  Women 
will  be  arriving  from  every  part  of  the  world,  and 
they  need  first  to  get  acquainted.  Next,  they  need  a 
leader  and  organizer.  Our  business  needs  the  work. 
Both  men  and  women  will  have  to  be  looked  after, 
socially.  You  are  the  very  one  to  do  it." 

John  Mooring  had  never  been  considered  a  fool,  ex 
cept  by  his  wife.  She,  at  least,  told  him  that  he  was. 
But  after  she  had  run  her  course  he  usually  brought 


124  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

her  up  suddenly  with  a  little  diplomacy  that  met  all 
purposes.  He  knew  her  armor  and  always  kept  his 
eye  on  a  vulnerable  spot.  This  time  he  had  sent  a 
dart  straight  to  the  mark. 

Leading  women's  movements  and  superintending 
clubs  and  social  functions  was  her  greatest  ambition. 
It  is  true  that  she  had  not  succeeded  in  superintend 
ing  or  leading  any  particular  organization  for  any 
great  length  of  time,  but  she  was  an  enthusiastic 
starter  of  things.  The  banker  had  drawn  aside  the 
curtain  and  showed  her  a  new  stage  for  operation. 
She  also  read  between  the  lines.  She  was  certain  of 
success  now.  Her  husband  had  never  been  able  to 
back  her  before  with  the  magic  key  that  opens  the  way 
to  leadership  in  society.  It  was  his  first  time  at  the 
helm  of  a  banking  institution. 

At  the  end  of  two  weeks  Mrs.  Annette  Mooring 
was  well  known  in  the  town  of  Mokava.  She  had  met 
every  man*  woman  and  child  in  the  place,  including 
the  squaw  wife  and  children  of  the  settler.  By  per 
sonal  interviews  she  knew  about  the  business  and 
troubles,  if  there  were  any,  of  the  citizens  of  the  new 
camp.  She  had  planned  half  a  dozen  clubs  and  other 
women's  organizations,  prepared  programs  for  the  win 
ter  months,  suggested  the  architecture  of  all  of  the 
contemplated  homes  of  the  citizens,  and  had  ordered 
her  husband  to  build  a  home  for  herself  that  would 
make  Mokava' s  new  house  look  like  a  suburban  cot 
tage  in  comparison.  She  had  written  a  woman  friend 
in  San  Francisco  to  come  out  in  time  to  take  charge 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     125 

of  the  school  as  soon  as  Mokava  should  get  the  build 
ing  ready. 

Then  the  announcement  came  that  the  railroad  would 
be  completed  by  a  certain  date  and  Mrs.  Annette  Moor 
ing  turned  her  attention  to  preparing  a  celebration  for 
this  event.  She  insisted  that  she  would  get  in  a  blow 
on  the  golden  spike  that  was  to  be  driven,  and  that  she 
would  go  further  and  break  the  bottle  of  champagne 
on  the  first  locomotive  that  arrived,  as  a  fitting  dedi 
cation  and  christening  for  its  departure  out  into  the 
world  to  bring  men  and  capital  to  the  city  of  Mokava. 

Then  she  planned  to  entertain  the  railroad  repre 
sentatives,  the  officers  of  the  chamber  of  commerce 
and  other  important  personages  at  the  quarters  of  the 
Moorings,  after  the  ceremonies  of  the  day  were  over. 

Mrs.  Annette  Mooring  was  a  busy  woman. 
*       *       *       *       * 

It  was  the  evening  preceding  the  day  upon  which 
the  advent  of  the  railroad  was  to  be  celebrated.  Mrs. 
Annette  Mooring  was  conversing  with  the  banker  in 
his  private  office.  The  following  day  would  have 
much  to  do  with  his  financial  affairs.  He  had  not 
told  his  wife,  but  she  had  learned  that  her  husband 
had  to  have  money,  and  that  he  hoped  to  get  it 
through  the  coming  of  the  railroad  and  through  the 
efforts  of  Horatio  Stallings. 

"Who  is  this  man,  Horatio  Stallings,  upon  whom 
so  much  appears  to  depend?"  asked  Mrs.  Mooring. 

"An  expert  accountant  and  bookkeeper  by  profes 
sion,"  replied  the  banker,  "but  a  financier  by  practice." 

"How  long  have  you  known  him.    Is  he  of  such  an 

5 


126  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

age  that  you  are  certain  that  he  is  dependable?"  con 
tinued  the  woman. 

"I  met  him  out  here  in  the  desert,  and  I  should 
judge  that  he  is  old  enough  to  know  his  business — 
he  is  at  least  fifty,"  explained  the  banker. 

"He  appears  to  have  been  gone  a  long  time — you 
say  he  is  making  progress?"  asked  Mrs.  Mooring. 

"Yes,  he  has  worked  under  difficulties.  Some  of 
the  new  mining  camps  have  failed.  This  necessarily 
weakened  confidence  outside.  Then  Robert  Ray  un 
loaded  his  stock  in  the  Burro  Hill  property,  the  best 
we  have,  and  that  weakened  our  best  asset.  But  Stall- 
ings  has  several  things  in  view.  Here  is  his  last  let 
ter,  you  may  read  it  while  I  am  checking  up  a  matter 
in  the  next  room." 

Mooring  handed  the  letter  to  his  wife  and  stepped 
into  the  main  room  of  the  building.  When  he  re 
turned  a  few  minutes  later  he  found  her  sitting  like 
a  statue,  her  eyes  transfixed  on  the  writing. 

He  looked  at  her  inquiringly. 

"I  am  not  feeling  well,"  she  said  sinking  limply 
into  her  chair. 


CHAPTER  XII 
ROBERT  RAY  MEETS  RUBY  MOORING 

RAILROAD  day  dawned  on  busy  men.    Some  of 
the  rails  had  to  be  laid  for  the  final  completion 
of  the  tracks,  and  ties  had  to  be  leveled  and 
tamped.     The  sun 'rose  red  across  the  desert  wastes 
and  glistened  on  the  gay  decorations  which  adorned 
the  town  of  Mokava.    Those  who  had  slept  at  all  were 
up  early,  and  those  who  had  been  up  all  night  refused 
to  go  to  bed.    It  was  the  first  gala  day  for  the  camp; 
and  it  was  an  important  day  for  the  town  and  every 
body  in  it. 

There  had  been  but  little  mining  in  the  place,  and 
mining  was  its  sole  dependence.  The  outcroppings 
indicated  that  there  might  be  wealth  beneath,  but  the 
matter  had  not  been  tested.  While  a  contagious  boom 
is  on  it  requires  but  little  of  the  virus  to  infect  large 
numbers.  But  the  contagion  had  about  run  its  course. 
Those  who  came  grub-staked  had  exhausted  their  re 
sources,  and  surface  indications  no  longer  satisfied  the 
investor.  He  demanded  to  know  what  was  beneath 
and  behind  this  call  for  his  money.  The  fascination  of 
inaccessibility  would  now  be  removed,  and  the  camp 
would  have  to  stand  upon  its  real  merits.  The  rail 
road  would  relieve  all  doubt.  It  would  bring  men 
and  machinery  who  would  make  the  test. 

It  was  an  important  day  for  other  reasons  than 
the  testing  of  the  stability  of  the  camp  itself.  The  first 


128  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

train  would  bring  the  families  of  men  who  had  been 
roughing  it  out  there  in  the  desert  until  they  were 
almost  estranged  from  their  relatives.  Later  trains 
would  bring  more  families.  The  long  separated  would 
be  reunited  and  life  was  to  be  started  over  in  a  new 
field.  Whether  or  not  this  should  be  successful  or 
permanent  depended  largely  on  what  was  beneath  the 
surface  of  Burro  Hill. 

The  man,  Mokava,  was  much  concerned.  He  had 
been  transferred  from  an  idle  monotonous  life  in  the 
lonesome  desert  to  a  most  strenuous  business  life  in 
a  miniature  modern  city.  The  past  few  months  had 
consisted  of  a  jumble  of  surprises,  busy  days,  senti 
ment,  realizations,  hopes  and  visions.  He  had  yet 
to  meet  with  his  first  real  disappointment.  He  had  been 
discouraged,  but  everything  had  worked  out  like  magic 
in  his  favor.  The  recovery  of  his  rights  in  the  spring, 
the  payment  for  his  grounds,  the  naming  of  the  town, 
all  had  come  his  way.  Mooring  had  thrown  a  tem 
porary  chill  on  his  hopes  when  he  suggested  the  choos 
ing  of  the  teacher,  but  Mokava  expected  to  overcome 
this  as  other  troubles  caused  by  Mooring  had  been 
mastered. 

The  majority  had  always  been  with  the  settler  and 
he  could  not  see  why  it  should  not  continue  to  cham 
pion  his  cause,  especially,  where  it  was  so  close  to  his 
heart.  For  the  spring  he  would  have  at  first  willingly 
accepted  a  mere  water  right  with  others.  For  his 
lands  he  would  have  accepted  the  little  plot  around 
his  rock  hut,  the  adobe  and  tepee.  He  would  have 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     129 

given  his  interest  in  Burro  Hill  freely.  But  for  all  of 
these  he  had  been  paid  liberally. 

Everything  of  the  past  and  the  future  now  centered 
on  the  one  hope  still  lingering  in  Mokava's  breast. 
Through  Nevada  he  expected  to  realize  this  hope — 
everything  to  him.  The  school  building  was  now  about 
completed  and  Nevada  would  come  pretty  soon.  He 
would  then  take  Robert  Ray  into  his  confidence  and 
tell  him  about  his  scheme  to  have  Nevada  chosen  as 
teacher.  It  would  be  like  seeing  her  seated  on  a 
throne;  it  would  be  the  climax  of  his  earthly  desires. 
He  had  built  the  house  out  of  his  own  funds.  He 
would  pay  the  teacher.  Why  should  it  not  be  Ne 
vada? 

Mrs.  Annette  Mooring  was  confined  to  her  room. 
She  informed  her  daughter  that  she  would  not  be  able 
to  leave  her  room  for  some  time;  that  it  was  the  most 
serious  nervous  attack  she  had  ever  had,  and  she  would 
have  to  keep  free  from  excitement  for  several  days. 
Ruby  would  have  to  go  alone  to  the  dedication  serv 
ices.  Mrs.  Mooring  would  have  her  easy  chair  placed 
near  the  window  of  her  room,  from  which  point  she 
could  witness  the  ceremony. 

John  Mooring  was  rather  pleased  than  worried  over 
his  wife's  condition.  She  had  been  subject  to  nervous 
spells  for  the  past  few  years,  and  it  was  when  she  was 
ailing  that  Mooring  found  the  greatest  relief.  She 
did  not  then,  at  least,  meddle  with  his  affairs.  The 
attack  at  the  bank  was  rather  out  of  the  ordinary. 
Mooring  hardly  understood  it.  She  did  not  usually 
bother  over  his  business  troubles.  And,  the  letter  from 


130  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

Stallings,  though  rather  indefinite  as  to  furnishing 
relief  under  the  present  stress,  was  not  of  such  a  char 
acter  as  to  cause  alarm.  Under  ordinary  conditions 
Mrs.  Mooring  would  have  passed  it  without  comment. 
But  she  probably  was  becoming  more  concerned  with 
her  advancing  years.  Well,  anyway,  he  would  be 
saved  from  any  humiliation  for  the  day. 

The  "first  oral  demonstration  came  from  a  crowd 
which  had  gathered  about  the  workmen  who  were 
placing  the  last  rail  of  the  track.  Their  shouts  hur 
ried  the  gathering  of  the  people.  A  curl  of  smoke 
had  been  discerned  far  out  on  the  shimmering  desert. 
The  first  locomotive,  attached  to  passenger  cars,  was 
drawing  slowly  toward  the  town  of  Mokava. 

Robert  Ray  joined  the  throng.  Since  the  arrival 
of  Ruby  Mooring  he  had  been  a  restless  man.  He  had 
seen  her  at  a  distance  a  few  times  when  she  was  on 
her  way  to  and  from  the  bank.  Her  mother  was 
usually  with  her.  Then  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  her 
once  when  he  was  passing  the  hotel  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  street.  It  had  been  accidental.  He  was 
hurrying  along  with  his  mind  absorbed  with  Ruby 
Mooring  when  something  caused  him  to  look  up.  He 
saw  for  one  brief  moment  the  object  of  his  thoughts 
standing  by  an  open  window.  He  turned  his  head 
quickly  in  the  other  direction,  but  not  before  he  had 
seen  the  figure  disappear  from  the  window  hastily. 
She  had  been  looking  at  him,  and  when  he  looked  up 
the  mutual  embarrassment  caused  each  to  escape  in 
his  own  way. 

"She  will  think  that  I  am  persistently  ogling  her," 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     131 

thought  Ray,  as  he  increased  his  steps.  "She  is 
friendly  with  Brush.  Her  father  and  I  are  enemies 
— that  is,  her  father  considers  me  his  enemy.  Brush 
has  never  recognized  me.  She  will  never  tell  about 
that  little  episode  in  the  room  at  San  Francisco. 
Doubtless  she  has  forgotten  it.  But  she  recalled  it 
when  she  first  saw  me  on  her  arrival  in  camp.  She 
came  near  to  collapsing.  Maybe  she  feared  I  would 
attack  Brush  again." 

Then  Ray  recalled  the  report  that  Brush  had  been 
a  frequent  caller  at  the  Mooring  quarters  since  their 
arrival.  Doubtless  Ray  had  often  been  the  subject 
of  their  discussion.  What  the  father  had  overlooked 
in  painting  Ray's  shortcomings  to  the  family,  Brush 
had  probably  supplied. 

"But  she  was  human  and  a  woman,  and  a  woman 
never  forgets  a  kindness,"  mused  Ray.  But  he  re 
called  that  once  when  he  met  Mrs.  Mooring  on  the 
street  she  had  elevated  her  chin  to  an  unnecessary 
height.  He  felt  that  he  was  in  bad  standing  with  the 
women,  as  well  as  with  the  man,  of  the  Mooring  fam 
ily.  Through  fear  that  his  recognition  might  in  some 
way  injure  Ruby  Mooring  in  connection  with  the 
fight  in  her  room  in  San  Francisco,  he  had  fled  from 
the  hotel  quickly  after  her  arrival  in  camp.  Since 
that  time  he  had  sneaked  about  the  camp  in  the 
routine  of  his  business  as  if  haunted  with  guilt  of 
some  kind.  He  did  not  know  why  he  did  it. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  you,  you  fool?"  he  had 
asked  himself  a  dozen  times.  "You  have  been  accus 
tomed  to  women  all  of  your  life ;  had  sweethearts  and 


1 32  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

thought  you  loved  them!  Who  is  this  sainted  being 
that  cows  you  like  a  knave;  that  makes  you  feel  that 
you  are  the  most  insignificant  creature  on  earth?" 

Then  he  would  imagine  temporarily  that  he  had 
thrown  off  the  peculiar  spell  and  laugh  at  himself. 
But  the  old  feeling  came  back  just  as  quickly  and  he 
found  himself  again  unable  to  shake  off  her  image. 

He  had  come  to  the  celebration  of  the  advent  of 
the  new  railroad  as  he  had  walked  about  the  streets 
of  late.  It  would  be  a  new  punishment  to  see  her — 
probably  she  would  be  accompanied  by  Andy  Brush! 
But  still,  he  would  be  disappointed  if  he  did  not  see 
her.  He  would  look  on,  if  she  came,  from  among  the 
restless  crowd,  when  she  would  not  be  aware  of  it.  It 
was  all  silly/ it  was  true,  but  he  could  not  rise  above  it. 

The  train  was  coming  and  the  crowd  had  gathered 
in  a  circle  about  the  point  where  the  golden  spike  was 
to  be  driven.  Robert  Ray  edged  his  way  into  the 
throng  and  was  examining  the  faces  cautiously  on  the 
other  side.  Some  one  jostled  into  him  in  the  crush. 
He  turned  and  met  with  a  surprise  that  nearly  knocked 
him  from  his  feet. 

"Excuse  me,  Mr.  Ray,  I  do  not  believe  you  have 
met  my  daughter,  Miss  Ruby,"  apologized  John  Moor 
ing,  who  had  been  the  offender.  "This  is  Mr.  Ray, 
daughter.  He  and  I  were  the  pioneers  here,  as  you 
have  already  been  told." 

Before  Mooring  had  time  to  continue  further  con 
versation  some  one  called  him  and  he  left  Ruby  Moor 
ing  in  the  care  of  Robert  Ray. 

Ray  stood  in  an  awkward  silence,  blushing  like  a 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     133 

school  girl  before  the  handsome  young  woman.  If 
Burro  Hill  had  suddenly  turned  to  solid  gold  and 
Ray  had  been  the  owner  of  it  in  fee  simple,  he  would 
not  have  been  happier.  Was  it  a  dream,  such  as  he 
had  awakened  from  so  often  with  disappointment  since 
he  had  first  seen  her,  or  was  it  real  this  time?  He 
was  afraid  to  move  or  speak  for  fear  she  might  vanish. 
Then  he  heard  her  voice!  She  had  waited  for  him 
to  speak  until  the  silence  was  awkward. 

"I  have  heard  much  of  you,  Mr.  Ray,"  she  began, 
"but  not  through  father.  He  never  talks  much  at 
home." 

"You  have  not  heard  much  that  was  good  of  me?" 
ventured  Ray. 

"Oh,  yes,  lots  of  good  things,  I  assure  you!  You 
are  a  friend  of  the  Mokava  family ;  they  are  so  interest 
ing.  Then,  mother  learned  of  how  you  saved  father's 
life.  Mokava  told  her.  You  are  also  regarded  as  the 
father  of  the  camp.  Quite  a  youthful  father,  but  one 
apparently  very  devoted.  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing 
you  the  first  day  of  our  arrival,  for  a  second,  and  have 
seen  you  a  few  times  since — at  a  distance.  You  ap 
pear  always  to  be  in  a  hurry — busy.  I  have  been  anx 
ious  for  an  opportunity,  under  calmer  circumstances, 
to  thank  you  for  your  bravery  that  night.  You  have 
seemed  to  evade  me.  I  had  longed  so  much  to  see 
you  again.  I  was  afraid  that  you  might  somewhere 
be  laboring  under  the  fear  that  a  crime  was  hanging 
over  your  head — and  I — I  was  the  cause,  you  know !" 

As  much  as  Ray  would  have  liked  to  hear  more,  he 
changed  the  subject.  Brush  was  still  living  and  Miss 


i34  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

Mooring  was  by  his  side.  Why  talk  about  the  past? 
"I  am  not  the  father  of  the  camp — I  did  not  bring  this 
rush,"  began  Ray,  "but  I  feel  a  responsibility.  We 
have  a  serious  problem.  The  camp  is  experimental. 
We  have  gotten  a  lot  of  outside  money  on  a  shoe 
string,  as  it  were,  and  I  feel  anxious  about  the  out 
come.  It  is  all  guess  work  yet,  and  it  would  prove  a 
great  disappointment  should  the  innocent  people  who 
have  invested  their  savings  lose  them — it  would  be 


a  crime." 


"I  thought  that  if  men  succeeded  nowadays  they 
did  not  worry  about  the  other  fellow,"  replied  the 
young  woman.  "In  my  limited  education  in  modern 
business  methods  and  finance,  especially  in  mining,  I 
had  begun  to  think  it  was  all  pretty  much  of  a  gamble, 
and  that  the  fellow  who  wins  doesn't  worry  much 
about  the  one  who  loses." 

"That  is  true  in  a  general  sense,"  replied  Ray,  think 
ing  of  the  source  from  which  Miss  Mooring  had 
obtained  her  'education/  "I  am  no  better  than  others, 
but  I  feel  the  responsibility  a  little  heavier  here.  As 
you  suggest,  I  am  in  the  position  of  a  sort  of  father 
of  the  camp,  having  been  among  the  first  to  discover 
it,  and  I  would  not  like  to  have  a  lot  of  losses  from 
wild-catting  schemes  charged  to  me." 

"Then  you  haven't  much  faith  in  the  permanency  of 
the  camp,  Mr.  Ray?"  suggested  Miss  Mooring. 

"It  isn't  justified,"  replied  Ray.  "As  I  said,  it  is  all 
speculative.  The  surface  only  has  been  scratched, 
and  we  do  not  know  what  is  beneath.  Money  that 
has  been  invested  by  outsiders  for  development  work 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     135 

has  gone  over  the  gambling  tables  and  saloon  bars, 
to  a  greater  extent,  and  we  have  nothing  to  show  for 
it.  It  will  be  a  sore  disappointment  to  the  women 
should  the  camp  prove  a  failure,  after  they  have  gone 
through  the  hardships  of  coming  into  the  desert,  and 
expecting  so  much." 

"We  are  used  to  it,"  replied  the  girl.  "We  have 
been  buffeted  about  ever  since  I  can  remember.  That 
is,  father  and  mother  have.  They  went  to  Cripple 
Creek,  Nome,  Klondike,  and — everywhere  where  there 
was  gold  excitement.  I  was  left  in  school  until  just 
before  I  met  you,  so  that  I  am  now  having  my  first 
personal  experience.  Here  comes  father,  and — I  hope 
that  I  may  see  more  of  you,  Mr.  Ray,"  she  said  as 
she  bowed  and  joined  the  banker  and  his  partner. 

Mooring  inclined  his  head  with  an  open  smile  to 
Ray  as  they  walked  away.  Andy  Brush  ignored  his 
presence  altogether,  and  directed  his  attention  to  Ruby 
Mooring. 

"And  I  put  in  the  whole  time  talking  business  to 
that  young  girl,  as  if  she  were  a  man  and  interested 
in  such  things!"  meditated  Ray,  reproachfully. 

When  the  train  pulled  up  to  the  rail  which  was  to 
be  secured  by  the  golden  spike,  the  crowd  surged 
about  the  coaches.  The  meeting  of  families  out 
there  in  the  desert,  after  separation  in  many  cases 
for  years,  was  one  of  the  features  of  Railroad  Day. 
But  the  contemplated  early  departure  of  the  first  train 
required  that  the  ceremonies  proceed,  and  Andy  Brush 
appeared  as  the  head  of  the  town  committee  with  a 
miniature  railroad  spike  made  of  gold  that  had  been 


136  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

contributed  by  all  of  the  claim  owners  of  the  camp. 
Ruby  Mooring  and  her  father  were  standing  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  circle,  and  they  were  both  watch 
ing  Brush. 

Ray  recalled  with  a  tinge  of  jealousy  that  he  was 
chairman  of  the  chamber  of  commerce,  and  should 
have  been  the  man  to  present  the  golden  spike,  in 
stead  of  Andy  Brush.  But  his  jealousy  subsided  with 
in  the  next  minute. 

"Will  our  fellow-townsman,  Mr.  Mokava,  please 
come  forward?"  asked  Brush,  in  a  loud  voice. 

The  settler  came  forward  as  timid  as  a  girl  and 
was  introduced  by  Brush  to  the  railroad  superintend 
ent  of  construction  and  the  audience  in  pretty  fair 
form — better  form,  in  fact,  than  Ray  thought  Brush 
capable  of  following. 

The  superintendent  delivered  a  short  address  and 
then  instructed  the  settler  to  place  the  spike  and  drive 
it  into  the  tie  as  the  connecting  link  between  the  town 
which  bore  his  name  and  the  outside  world.  Mokava 
tremblingly  placed  the  emblem  at  the  point  fixed  and 
raised  the  heavy  sledge  above  his  head  and  struck  with 
all  his  force.  The  hammer  descended  in  the  nervous 
hands  of  the  settler  and  struck  the  spike  a  glancing 
blow.  It  flashed  one  time  in  the  bright  sunlight  as 
it  shot  through  space  and  buried  itself  somewhere  in 
the  soft  desert  sands. 

"There  goes  all  of  the  gold  in  camp!"  shouted  a 
wag  as  a  climax  to  the  embarrassing  situation. 

"That's  all  right,  ladies  and  gentlemen,"  shouted 
the  railroad  superintendent  of  construction  after  a  fruit- 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     137 

less  search  for  the  lost  spike,  "we  now  have  a  little  sur 
prise  for  you.  Gather  about  the  front  of  the  locomo 
tive,  while  we  finish  the  ceremony." 

A  step-ladder  was  brought  from  the  Pullman  and 
placed  by  the  side  of  the  cow-catcher.  The  engine  was 
still  puffing  and  trembling  like  a  thing  of  life. 

"Give  way  for  the  Queen  of  the  Desert!"  shouted 
the  manager  of  ceremonies. 

The  crowd  parted  by  the  side  of  the  locomotive  and 
Thomas  Lansing,  the  engineer,  came  forward  fol 
lowed  by  a  small  figure  whose  identity  was  concealed 
by  a  large  light  ulster  and  an  automobile  veil.  When 
they  reached  the  step-ladder  the  ulster  and  veil  were 
removed  and  a  pretty  dark-eyed  young  woman  ascended 
the  steps  and  mounted  the  side  of  the  locomotive  with 
graceful  ease. 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen !"  shouted  the  master  of  cere 
monies,  "There  is  nothing  more  appropriate  for  the 
dedication  of  the  first  locomotive  that  has  just  ar 
rived  from  the  outside  world  into  your  magic  little 
city,  and  for  the  christening  of  that  same  locomotive, 
which  is  soon  to  leave  for  the  outside  world  again,  to 
bring  her  men  and  her  women  and  her  money  to 
develop  your  great  resources  and  build  up  your  city 
than  to  have  the  little  queen  of  the  desert,  who  was 
born  near  the  spot  where  I  now  stand,  spill  this  bot 
tle  of  pure  wine  which  is  to  assure  the  safety  and 
success  of  this  great  railroad  enterprise,  and  the  suc 
cess  of  the  city  which  is  its  terminus!  Ladies  and 
gentlemen,  allow  me  to  introduce — " 

"Nevada!"  shouted  Mokava  who  had  just  recovered 


138  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

sufficient  courage  after  his  failure  to  drive  the  spike  to 
approach  the  new  scene  of  the  ceremonies. 

"Nevada!  Nevada!"  cried  Grant  and  Amosa,  who 
gazed  up,  astonished,  at  their  sister,  whom  they  had 
not  recognized  at  first. 

The  bottle  of  wine  was  given  to  Nevada  and  she 
was  told  to  throw  it  with  all  her  might  against  the 
rim  of  the  front  part  of  the  locomotive. 

She  drew  back  her  arm  with  its  full  length  and 
hurled  the  bottle  with  all  her  strength ! 

It  missed  the  mark  and  glanced  out  into  the  desert 
sands  beyond! 

"That's  enough — two  signs  of  bad  luck  in  one  day !" 
shouted  a  gambler. 

"And  it's  Friday,  too!"  called  another. 

"It's  the  luckiest  day  of  my  life,"  said  Robert  Ray 
to  himself. 

But  in  another  instant  he  was  not  so  certain.  He 
heard  the  coarse  voice  of  Andy  Brush  and  looked  in 
its  direction.  In  the  scrambling  crowd,  which  was 
now  breaking  away,  Ruby  Mooring  had  taken  Brush's 
arm.  John  Mooring  had  left  his  partner  to  escort 
Miss  Mooring  to  her  home. 

"Can  it  be  after  all,"  ran  through  Ray's  mind,  "that 
they  intend  to  sacrifice — marry  their  daughter  to  that 
ruffian,  gambler  and  libertine?" 


CHAPTER  XIII 
A  TRIBAL  LEGEND 

TT  DO  not  approve  of  this,  Ruby ;  and,  remember 
^    it  shall  be  your  last  call — it  is  not  a  call;  it  is 
just  a  slumming  expedition,"  frowned  Mrs.  An 
nette  Mooring.    "You  will  disgrace  us — we  cannot  af 
ford  to  associate  with  Indians!" 

"She  is  just  as  nice,  mother,  as  if  she  were  white 
She  is  whiter  than  you  or  I — I  mean  her  skin  is  much 
whiter  than  yours  or  mine,"  replied  Ruby  Mooring. 
"She's  such  a  darling  little  thing,  too,  isn't  she,  Mr. 
Ray?  She's  sensible  and  good  and  so  unassuming! 
Why  should  the  fact  that  she  has  Indian  blood  in  her 
veins  ostracize  her  from  the  society  of  white  people? 
She  couldn't  help  it!" 

"You  don't  understand,  daughter,"  replied  Mrs. 
Mooring,  impatiently.  "The  best  citizens  are  cutting  her 
and  you  know  we  must  not  antagonize  these  people. 
Your  father  is  a  banker ;  besides,  we  must  remember  our 
station  always !  This  is  the  last  call  that  you  will 
make  at  the  home  of  the  squaw  man.  Remember,  this 
is  final.  And  you,  Mr.  Ray,  you  will  have  to  cut 
out  your  visits  either  at  the  Indian  or  Mooring  home!1' 

This  did  not  meet  the  approval  of  Robert  Ray. 
He  had  been  a  stickler  for  conventionalism  in  his 
rearing  but  he  had  changed  his  mind  as  he  grew  older. 
He  did  not  consider  heritage  a  safe  basis  upon  which 
to  judge  either  men  or  women.  He  had  been  given 


140  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

an  illustration  at  the  town  of  Mokava  that  tended  to 
confirm  this  theory.  He  saw  a  pure  and  magnanimous 
heart  exhibited  by  a  plain  squaw  man,  whose  ancestry 
was  unknown  and  whose  environment  had  been  that 
of  a  savage  race.  Upon  the  other  hand  when  he 
started  out  prospecting  with  John  Mooring,  who  was 
supposed  to  possess  the  best  of  inheritance,  and  who 
had  been  reared  in  a  boasted  civilization,  he  had  ex 
pected  the  very  best  of  him.  But  the  very  worst  had 
developed  from  this  creature  of  the  refined  world. 

Another  change  of  opinion,  as  well  as  of  heart,  on  the 
same  subject  followed  his  better  acquaintance  with 
Ruby  Mooring.  He  had  feared  that  nothing  good 
could  come  from  John  Mooring,  or  even  from  con 
tinued  association  with  him,  before  fortune  threw  him 
into  almost  daily  contact  with  Mooring's  daughter. 
But  since  he  met  her  on  Railroad  Day  it  had  been 
easy  sailing.  For  some  reason,  which  he  did  not  care 
to  question,  the  Moorings  had  opened  their  doors  to 
him.  This  had  not  changed  his  private  estimate  of 
them,  however,  but  had  given  him  an  opportunity  to 
get  better  acquainted  with  their  daughter.  He  was 
more  certain  than  ever  that  she  had  not  inherited  any 
of  their  bad  traits.  He  had  reached  the  conclusion 
also,  that  every  person  was  his  or  her  own  architect, 
and  that  they  would  be  good  or  bad,  win  or  lose,  ac 
cording  to  their  own  inclination  and  work. 

"Look  at  Mokava,"  he  argued  to  himself.  "No  one 
knows  who  he  is  or  where  he  came  from,  but  he  has 
a  heart  as  pure  as  any  woman  and  the  soul  of  a  saint. 
Then  there  is  Nevada.  She  is  the  daughter  of  an 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     141 

ignorant  squaw,  yet  she  is  as  refined  and  sensible  as 
I  would  have  my  own  sister.  And,  Ruby/'  here  he 
spoke  more  guardedly  even  in  his  thought  speech, 
"one  could  scarcely  believe  that  she  is  the  daughter 
of  Jack  Mooring  and  that — her  mother.  They  are 
each  positive  misrepresentations  of  what  God  doubt 
less  intended  them  for.  For  instance,  Mooring  is  an 
unscrupulous  ingrate,  a  trickster,  who  would  rather  get 
money  dishonestly  than  legitimately,  who  would  betray 
a  friend  or  stoop  to  the  vilest  thing,  when  standing  by 
his  friend  and  pursuing  an  upright  course  would  get 
the  same  results. 

"And  his  wife — a  mannish  woman,  a  suffragette,  a 
failure  of  her  sex.  She  would  desert  her  post,  tres 
pass  somewhere,  even  try  to  invade  the  sphere  intended 
for  man.  She  is  one  of  God's  latest  curses  sent  upon 
the  world. 

"But  Ruby — she  is  sensible,  reasonable,  refined,  ef- 
feminite — she  possesses  every  trait  which  neither  her 
father  nor  mother  has,  and  is  devoid  of  any  of  their 
characteristics.  If  there  is  anything  in  blood  and  in 
heritance,  one  would  be  forced  to  believe  that  Ruby  is 
not  their  child." 

"Pardon  me  for  apologizing  for  my  mother,"  said 
Ruby  Mooring  when  she  and  Robert  Ray  were  well  on 
their  way  to  the  home  of  Mokava,  "but  she  is  not  alto 
gether  responsible  of  late,  I  fear.  She  has  not  always 
been  as  she  is  now.  She  is  much  worse  since  the  last 
spell  at  the  bank.  When  I  first  remember  she  was  so 
much  different.  She  thought  more  of  the  home,  and 
questions  of  a  public  nature  and  women's  clubs  did  not 


142  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

prey  so  much  upon  her  mind.  While  she  always  had 
an  inclination  for  a  public  life — I  mean  an  inclination 
to  be  a  leader  of  others — she  was  rather  modest  about 
it  at  first. 

"She  has  been  worried  a  great  deal  since  I  began  to 
grow  up.  She  seems  to  dread  for  me  and  my  future. 
I  don't  understand  it.  I  often  catch  her  gazing  at 
me  when  she  doesn't  know  I  am  aware  of  the  fact,  and 
she  appears  as  if  her  heart  would  break.  I  do  not 
understand  it." 

"It  is  a  mother's  natural  anxiety  for  the  future  of 
her  daughter,"  said  Ray.  "And  she  should  be  inter 
ested  in  such  a  daughter!  Why,  she  is  the — " 

"No  flattery,  please;  it  is  a  serious  matter  with 
me.  I  am  worried  about  mother.  Father  does  not 
know.  He  has  never  been  at  home  much.  She  says 
she  was  happy  after  her  marriage  until  I  was  about 
a  year  old.  She  tells  me  this,  but  never  mentions  the 
matter  in  father's  presence.  Since  then  she  says  her 
life  has  grown  more  wearisome  until  she  has  lost  all 
interest,  so  far  as  home  affairs  are  concerned.  And  I 
really  don't  believe  she  cares  much  for  life  itself.  It 
is  so  sad.  She  admits  when  she  is  confidential  that 
these  new  foolish  fads  of  women  offer  her  a  more 
miserable  way  of  putting  in  an  otherwise  miserable 
life.  She  says  it  is  a  place  where  women  who  have 
made  failures  or  mistakes  in  life  may  undergo  a  sort 
of  self-punishment.  While  she  talks  women's  rights 
and  urges  women  to  exercise  them  at  the  polls,  and  in 
other  public  affairs,  in  public,  at  home  she  quietly  ad 
mits  to  me  that  the  only  true  place  for  woman  is  the 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     143 

home,  and  her  only  sphere  is  the  old  one  people  be 
lieved  in  when  they  followed  the  theory  that  the  hand 
that  rocks  the  cradle  rules  the  world." 

Nevada  met  them  at  the  door  with  her  accustomed 
happy  smile.  The  parlor  was  a  beauty  spot  in  com 
parison  with  the  hotel  quarters  and  other  places  in  the 
camp,  and  Nevada  had  brought  with  her  from  the 
dormitory  of  the  Indian  school  little  ornaments  of  In 
dian  manufacture  that  set  off  the  odd  places  about  the 
walls  with  pleasing  effect.  Amosa  and  Grant  were 
neatly  appareled  and  were  sitting  silently  on  a  sofa 
with  eagerness  depicted  on  their  faces. 

"I  know  you  will  excuse  me  for  permitting  the  chil 
dren  to  remain  for  a  little  while,"  apologized  Ne 
vada.  "They  are  so  fond  of  music,  and  they  have 
doubtless  tired  of  hearing  me  drum  on  the  piano.  They 
have  been  crazy  about  your  playing  ever  since  you 
played  for  them  the  last  time  you  were  here,  Miss 
Ruby,  and  they  could  not  be  suppressed  when  they 
were  told  that  you  were  coming  this  evening." 

Ray  was  compelled  to  note  the  changed  appearance 
in  the  children  under  the  hand  of  Nevada.  He  noted 
the  difference  in  their  demeanor  and  dress  today  and 
that  when  he  first  saw  them  when  he  came  to  con 
sciousness  in  the  little  rock  house.  It  was  especially 
of  their  dress  and  personal  appearance  that  he  took 
notice.  The  children  had  been  quiet  and  modest,  even 
out  there  where  they  had  never  seen  the  evidences  of 
refinement,  except  that  inherent  trace  that  was  always 
exhibited  by  their  father. 

The  playing  and  singing  had  ceased  and  the  chil- 


144  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

dren  had  gone  reluctantly  to  their  beds.  Nevada  had 
been  waiting  for  an  excuse  to  again  explain  her  awk 
wardness  on  Railroad  Day.  Her  failure  had  caused 
her  much  humiliation. 

"I  cannot  get  over  being  ashamed  of  myself/'  she 
repeated.  "Mr.  Lansing  scolded  me  outright.  He 
said  he  had  come  to  doubt  that  I  had  any  Indian  blood 
in  my  veins ;  that  the  smallest  amount  of  Indian  blood 
should  have  kept  me  from  losing  my  head;  that  I  re 
minded  him  of  the  class  known  as  broken  down  aris 
tocracy,  which  does  not  know  how  to  do  anything  but 
pretend.  He  was  all  put  out  about  the  matter.  But 
I  didn't  care  so  much  for  my  failure  as  that  of  poor 
father.  '  He  takes  it  to  heart.  It  is  a  serious  thing 
with  him.  He  had  about  forgotten  an  old  legend  of 
my  mother's  tribe,  which  has  always  hung  like  a  sword 
of  Damocles  above  his  head,  and  now  he  lays  it  to 
that  and  is  almost  hopeless." 

"Do  you  believe  in  superstitions,  Miss  Nevada?" 
asked  Ray,  reminded  of  the  discussions  that  he  had 
heard  among  the  gamblers  following  the  occurrence 
on  Railroad  Day. 

"Not  in  the  light  of  modern  education,  Mr.  Ray,"  re 
plied  the  girl  with  a  tone  of  humiliation  in  her  voice. 

"You  have  an  advantage  over  me,"  apologized  Rob 
ert  Ray  quickly.  "I  was  reared  in  the  South  where 
the  old  superstitions  of  the  negroes  are  driven  into  the 
white  youth  by  word  of  mouth,  and  I  confess  that  I 
cannot  get  it  out  of  my  system." 

"Then  you  can  sympathize  with  father,"  replied  Ne 
vada.  "Mother  believes  implicitly  in  the  old  legend 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     145 

which  she  holds  over  father's  and  the  rest  of  our 
heads.  Father  does  not  believe  in  it  seriously  all  of 
the  time,  but  he  has  a  doubt  and  when  anything  oc 
curs  derogatory  to  his  plans  he  lays  it  to  that  old 
legend." 

"Tell  it  to  us !"  insisted  the  two  in  one  voice. 

"Oh,  it  is  so  silly — not  even  interesting,"  replied 
Nevada. 

"It  will  interest  me,"  insisted  Robert  Ray.  "Things 
are  not  going  right  in  the  town  of  Mokava.  There 
is  something  wrong  somewhere,  and  it  may  be  that 
there  is  significance  in  these  superstitions.  Tell  us 
about  it  and  we  will  draw  our  own  deductions." 

"It  is  ridiculous — just  a  tribal  legend,  you  know," 
began  Nevada.  "It  was  a  custom  in  my  mother's  tribe, 
as  it  is  in  most  Indian  tribes,  you  know,  for  the  suitor 
to  offer  a  price  and  pay  it  for  his  bride,  if  required, 
and  the  price  was  usually  demanded.  When  the  suitor 
first  asked  the  hand  of  his  intended  bride  of  her  father, 
he  also  asked  the  price.  He  was  informed  of  the  terms 
and  the  suitor  either  paid  the  price  then  and  there  or 
brought  it  along  on  the  wedding  day. 

"Well,  according  to  the  legend  of  my  mother's 
tribe,  a  chief  came  a  long  way  to  woo  a  girl  of  the 
tribe — the  daughter  of  the  chief.  He  failed  to  ask 
the  price  and  the  chief  reminded  him  of  the  custom. 
Whereupon  the  suitor,  who  had  friends  secreted  nearby, 
sounded  the  call  and  they  set  upon  the  chief  and  his 
followers,  took  the  girl  by  force  and  made  their 
escape. 

"They  were  married  according  to  the  ceremonies  of 


146  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

the  marauding-  chiefs  tribe,  but  the  curse  of  moth 
er's  ancient  tribal  laws  was  upon  them.  That  curse 
was  that  the  bride  and  groom  and  their  offspring 
should  never  prosper.  On  the  contrary  they  should 
most  miserably  fail ;  they  should  become  outcasts  from 
their  people ;  their  offspring  should  not  be  blessed  with 
posterity,  and  that  everybody  with  whom  any  of  them 
should  come  in  contact  should  also  be  accursed;  every 
thing  they  should  touch  should  fail,  and  that  particu 
lar  family  should  finally  perish  in  solitude,  and  in  a 
most  ignominious  manner! 

"Father  was  found  on  the  desert  in  his  mother's 
arms  while  he  was  still  a  baby.  He  belonged  to  a  band 
of  immigrants  who  were  on  their  way  to  California." 
His  mother  was  the  only  one,  besides  father,  of  the 
entire  party  who  survived.  And  she  yielded  father 
up  later  with  her  dying  breath  to  the  chief  of  the  band 
of  Indians  who  found  them.  He  was  mother's  father. 
Well,  father  grew  up  in  the  tribe.  But  when  he  came 
to  ask  for  the  hand  of  mother  the  usual  price  was 
mentioned.  He  laughed  at  the  custom  and  said  it  was 
a  relic  of  savagery. 

'  If  you  do  not  pay  for  your  squaw  now,  you 
will  pay  the  price  in  the  penalty  of  the  curse !'  warned 
mother's  father." 

"So  father  and  mother  were  driven  from  the  tribe. 
Mother  has  often  grieved  very  much  over  the  matter. 
She  believes  everything  will  come  out  just  as  pre 
dicted  in  the  legend.  Father  scorned  the  terms  of  the 
curse  until  recently.  He  and  mother  were  happy  with 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     147 

us  children  until  the  white  men  came.  But  since  then 
the  old  legend  has  worried  him. 

"His  failure  to  drive  the  golden  spike  on  Railroad 
Day  and  my  failure  to  break  the  bottle  of  wine  are 
attributed  by  mother  to  the  old  tribal  curse.  Father 
has  about  concluded,  after  all,  that  there  is  something 
in  the  old  legend." 

"Poor  Nevada,"  sympathized  Ruby  Mooring  on  their 
way  home.  She  is  so  good.  Her  case  is  so  sad.  I 
am  sorry  that  mother  has  forbidden  me  to  visit  her.  I 
should  like  so  much  to  see  her  often.  I  prefer  her  com 
panionship  most  to  that  of  other  women  in  camp.  Her 
color  should  not  be  held  against  her.  Besides,  I  do 
not  see  why  Indian  blood  is  to  be  despised." 

"It  is  the  way  of  the  world,"  replied  Ray,  "and  it 
appears  that  women  must  bow  to  the  rules  of  society, 
whether  right  or  wrong.  It  is  not  so  strict  with  men, 
and  if  it  were,  I  suppose  I  would  be  rather  stubborn." 

"And  I  fear  there  will  be  still  greater  disappoint 
ment  for  her  from  what  I  have  heard,"  said  Ruby  as 
the  two  were  entering  her  home. 

"Yes,"  replied  Ray,  "but  it  will  hurt  Mokava  more 
than  it  will  Nevada." 

"And  you,  you  will  not  regard  mother's  prohibition 

against  your  visiting  the  Mokavas  seriously?"   said 

Ruby.     "She  will  not  think  of  the  matter  again,  pos- 

*  sibly — as  to  you.     But  with  me  the  requirement  is 

final." 

"I  will  manage  it  in  some  way  that  no  harm  will 
come  of  it,"  assured  Ray  as  he  took  his  leave. 


CHAPTER  XIV 
OSTRACIZED 

1TT  IS  a  good  thing  that  Mooring  got  the  certi 
fied  check  on  the  other  bank  for  one  thousand 
dollars  from  the  squaw  man  before  the  teach 
er's  election,  Eva,  or  you  would  have  had  to  depend 
upon  the  public  for  your  salary,  and  the  public  is  poor 
dependence  in  such  matters,"  said  Mrs.  Annette  Moor 
ing.  "You've  got  to  give  it  to  John  Mooring  when 
it  comes  to  foxiness  in  delicate  work,  if  he  is  thick 
headed  about  some  things !" 

"They  say  that  the  squaw  man  expected  his  daugh 
ter  to  get  the  position,"  replied  Miss  Eva  Martin. 

"Yes,  poor^  Bob  Ray  placed  her  name  before  the 
meeting  and  he  and  Mokava  and  a  few  others  voted 
for  the  girl,  but  Ray  knew  it  was  a  hopeless  case," 
explained  Mrs.  Mooring.  "You  must  not  blame  Bob; 
he's  a  sort  of  guardian  for  the  old  squaw  man,  and 
couldn't  very  well  refuse  to  support  the  half-breed  girl 
on  that  account.  Say,  she's  as  smart  and  pretty  as  she 
can  be.  Ruby  says  she  is  just  as  good  with  it  all.  I 
had  to  break  Ruby  away  from  the  place.  She  is  just 
like  all  silly  girls  of  her  age — would  do  the  very  thing 
she  should  not  do. 

"Do  you  know,  she  would  have  just  taken  up  all 
of  her  spare  time  at  the  Indian  home  if  I  hadn't  set 
my  foot  down  hard  against  any  further  association  with 
those  semi-savages?" 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     149 

"I  dread  tomorrow's  ordeal,"  worried  Miss  Martin. 
"They  say  that  the  squaw  man's  children  are  getting 
ready  for  school  with  bright  anticipations.  It  looks 
so  hard  to  send  them  back  home,  especially  after  their 
father  has  built  the  school  house  and  is  actually  paying 
my  salary!" 

"Tush,  Eva!  You  were  always  so  sentimental," 
scolded  Mrs.  Mooring.  "Wait  until  you  have  been  in 
the  world,  and  known  it  as  long  as  I  have.  Such  little 
things  will  not  trouble  you  then.  Why,  it  will  be  a 
novel  experience!  The  whole  town — the  better  ele 
ment,  at  least — will  be  with  you.  You  will  be  a  hero 
ine.  You  will  be  the  one  to  draw  the  social  line.  I 
wish  I  were  you  just  to  enjoy  the  fun  of  seeing  those 
half-breeds  open  their  big  black  eyes  with  amazement 
when  you  tell  them  to  run  along  back  to  their  squaw 
mother." 

"I  don't  believe  I  can  tell  them — I  don't  know  how 
to  begin,"  said  Miss  Martin. 

"That  will  be  easy,"  began  Mrs.  Mooring.  "But 
you  might  lose  your  head.  I  will  fix  it  for  you.  I  will 
write  a  note  to  hand  to  them.  You  can  do  this  and 
then  tell  them  to  just  take  it  home.  Nevada  will  trans 
late  it  to  the  squaw  man  and  his  wife." 

"It  will  all  be  novel  enough,"  mused  the  new  teacher. 
"I  should  enjoy  it  but  for  the  sending  of  those  chil 
dren  home.  I  would  rather  be  back  at  my  old  job 
as  cashier  of  the  water-front  restaurant  for  the  particu 
lar  time  that -it  will  take  to  get  those  children  out  of 
the  place." 

"Oh,  forget  it,  Eva,  you  will  make  me  sorry  we 


150  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

sent  for  you,  the  first  thing  you  know,"  said  Mrs. 
Mooring,  impatiently.  "But  you  owe  it  mostly  to  John 
anyway.  He  planned  it  all  before  I  came.  I  thought 
once  of  changing  the  arrangement  for  Ruby.  It  would 
have  been  such  valuable  experience  for  her,  you  know. 
But  Mooring  said  it  would  be  better  to  put  her  in  the 
bank.  She  likes  the  work  and  is  doing  well  at  the  bank. 
Besides,  things  are  not  going  well  with  us  over  there; 
we  need  to  save  every  cent  we  can.  I  have  advised 
Mooring  to  let  a  fellow  by  the  name  of  S tailings  out 
— he  is  on  the  coast  now  on  some  business  for  the 
bank,  but  is  not  accomplishing  anything.  I  have  ad 
vised  Mooring  not  to  let  him  come  back.  Ruby  can 
fill  his  place." 

***** 

School  morning  came  with  an  unusual  bustle.  It 
was  new  in  every  way — new  teacher,  new  house,  new 
faces — new  everything.  Nevada  had  put  Amosa  and 
Grant  through  the  hundredth  drill.  She  wanted  them 
to  make  a  good  showing  at  their  father's  new  school 
house. 

"Now,  Grant,  don't  forget,"  she  warned  her  young 
brother.  "You  do  just  as  I  have  shown  you,  and  watch 
Amosa  when  you  forget,  and  she  will  straighten  you 
out!  Amosa,  look  after  Grant,  and  you  and  he  must 
make  ideal  pupils,  and  when  school  is  out  come  straight 
home." 

They  were  dressed  in  the  new  clothes  that  Nevada 
had  bought  for  Grant  and  made  for  Amosa.  Their 
hands  and  faces  were  washed  to  immaculate  cleanli 
ness,  and  their  hair  was  combed  neatly.  Amosa  wore 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     151 

a  bright  red  bow  that  matched  her  jet  black  hair. 
They  were  in  the  most  presentable  condition  that  their 
sister's  work  could  make. 

Mokava  had  been  despondent  for  several  days.  Ne 
vada's  overwhelming  defeat  for  the  position  of  teacher 
was  the  hardest  blow  that  he  had  ever  experienced. 
But  when  he  saw  Amosa  and  Grant  preparing  to  go 
to  school — to  the  building  which  he  had  paid  for,  and 
watched  every  piece  of  material  placed  in  it,  to  enter 
the  charge  of  the  teacher  whom  his  money  had  em 
ployed — a  spark  of  enthusiasm  again  lighted  his  eyes. 
It  had  made  his  faith  stronger  in  Nevada.  While  she 
was  preparing  the  children  he  had  been  watching  her 
with  a  pride  that  knew  no  bounds.  He  could  depend 
upon  her,  at  least. 

''Cheer  up,  father,"  she  said,  glancing  affectionately 
at  Mokava.  "If  I  had  known  that  you  planned  to 
enter  my  name  for  the  position  I  would  not  have  per 
mitted  it.  It  was  out  of  the  question.  You  did  not 
understand.  You  have  not  had  enough  experience  in 
the  new  life  yet.  They  did  the  best  thing.  It  would 
have  never  done  for  me  to  undertake  to  fill  the  place. 
It  would  have  proved  more  humiliating  to  you  than 
it  has  in  the  present  case.  Everything  is  working  out 
all  right." 

Nevada  did  not  speak  the  exact  words  thus  im 
puted  to  her,  but  she  spoke  their  substance,  always 
intermingling  the  English  and  Indian  tongue  in  such 
a  manner  as  to  make  it  the  easiest  understood  by  her 
father.  It  was  different  in  conversing  with  her  mother. 
If  the  latter  understood  a  syllable  of  any  other  than 


152  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

her  native  tongue  she  refused  at  all  times  to  acknowl 
edge  it. 

School  had  just  been  called  when  Amosa  and  Grant 
entered  the  door.  Mokava  had  accompanied  them  a 
part  of  the  way  through  the  enthusiasm  which  Ne 
vada  had  aroused  in  him  again.  The  half-breeds  went 
forward,  punctiliously  following  the  instructions  given 
them  by  Nevada,  and  presented  themselves  in  front  of 
the  teacher. 

"My  name  is  Amosa  and  this  is  my  brother,  Grant," 
began  the  girl.  "We  are  the  children  of  Mokava." 

A  burst  of  laughter  spread  over  the  school  room. 
Amosa  and  Grant  looked  about  at  first,  thinking  they 
had  made  a  mistake  in  some  way.  But  after  a  minute's 
thought  they  knew  better,  for  they  had  followed  out 
the  instructions  of  Nevada,  so  far,  to  the  dot. 

The  teacher  drew  a  note  from  her  desk  and  gave  it 
to  Amosa,  telling  her  to  take  it  to  her  father.  The 
half-breeds  stood  bewildered  for  a  moment.  The 
teacher  motioned  with  her  hand  for  them  to  depart. 
They  still  did  not  comprehend.  Thinking,  however, 
that  she  meant  for  them  to  be  seated,  Amosa  weut 
to  a  seat  on  the  side  of  the  house  occupied  by  the  girls 
and  directed  Grant  to  a  seat  among  the  boys. 

The  other  children  now  went  into  an  uproar  of 
laughter,  despite  the  efforts  of  the  teacher  to  secure 
order.  She  then  went  direct  to  Amosa  and  told  her 
to  go  home  and  take  her  brother  with  her,  and  to  give 
her  father  the  note.  Puzzled  beyond  all  understand 
ing,  Amosa  arose,  went  and  took  Grant  by  the  hand 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     153 

and  led  him  from  the  room,  while  the  deafening  laugh 
ter  of  the  other  children  thundered  in  their  ears. 

Amosa  and  Grant  entered  the  magnificent  home  of 
Mokava  and  ran  to  Nevada  with  the  note.  She  opened 
and  read: 

"Dear  Mr.  Mokava :  I  am  sorry  to  inform  you  that 
it  is  the  sense  of  the  patrons  of  the  school  that  your 
children  should  not  be  enrolled.  There  is  nothing  per 
sonal  in  the  matter,  but  it  is  considered  best  for  the 
cause  of  education  and  the  good  of  the  community. — 
Eva  Martin,  teacher." 

Two  days  had  passed  since  Nevada  read  the  note 
to  Mokava.  He  sat  despondently  in  his  adobe  hut. 
He  had  shut  the  door  and  refused  to  look  out  into 
the  world.  He  despised  everything  new.  His  mind 
was  on  the  days  of  old — when  he  and  Tehana  and  Ne 
vada  and  Amosa  and  Grant  were  out  there  alone.  He 
was  thinking  of  those  days  before  Nevada  had  gone 
away  to  the  Indian  school;  before  she  had  begun  to 
learn  the  ways  of  the  white  race;  before  the  white 
tongue  had  been  heard  in  their  family. 

He  remembered  when  it  began;  when  the  surveyor 
was  stricken  sick  and  brought  to  his  home ;  the  request 
to  take  Nevada  to  the  Indian  school;  her  departure; 
her  return  with  the  enthusiasm  that  inspired  him  with 
a  new  hope;  the  coming  of  Ray  and  Mooring;  the 
rush;  the  accursed  money  which  he  had  received;  the 
building  of  the  new  house  for  Nevada ;  the  school  build 
ing,  and  the  hopes  for  Nevada — they  were  all  blunders. 
They  were  now  ostracized  because  of  their  Indian 


154  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

blood.     After  all,  the  curse  of  Tehana's  tribe  was 
upon  them. 

The  pitiless  decree  of  the  society  of  the  little  min 
ing  camp  was  against  him  and  his.  Robert  Ray  had 
canvassed  the  matter,  but  could  not  get  the  children  re 
instated.  He  secured  a  following,  it  is  true,  but  most 
of  these  had  no  children.  A  large  majority  of  those 
who  had  children  in  school  threatened  to  withdraw 
them  should  those  of  Mokava  attend. 

"Do  they  permit  negro  children  in  the  South  to 
attend  the  white  schools?"  asked  a  southerner. 

"There  are  Indian  schools  for  Indian  children  on 
the  reservations,"  suggested  others. 

"But  Mokava  built  the  house  and  is  paying  the 
teacher !"  argued  Ray.  "Besides,  his  children  are  half 
white,  well  behaved  and  are  kept  in  as  neat  condition 
by  their  sister  as  any  of  the  white  children." 

"We  will  repay  Mokava  the  money  he  has  ex 
pended,"  suggested  some,  who  had  already  begun  to 
fall  behind  in  their  more  urgent  legal  obligations. 

But  Ray  knew  they  would  not  keep  this  promise, 
and  replied  that  Mokava  would  not  accept  reimburse 
ment. 

"He  received  enough  money  for  his  place  here  to 
put  him  on  easy  street;  he  can  afford  to  make  it  a  gift 
— let  him  send  his  children  to  the  Indian  school  where 
the  government  will  teach  them  free,"  retorted  John 
Mooring  and  his  followers. 

"It  is  the  cruelty  of  fate,"  acknowledged  Nevada, 
when  Robert  Ray  called  to  explain  the  hopelessness  of 
changing  the  minds  of  the  people.  "It  is  right,  I  sup- 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     155 

pose,  but  I  am  so  sorry  for  father.  I  have  put  off 
disturbing  him.  But  I  will  go  and  explain.  It  will 
be  a  difficult  matter,  though.  He  had  built  up  such 
hopes.  It  has  been  his  life's  desire  since  the  first  white 
man  came  along  to  bring  his  family  into  their  world. 
He  could  not  understand.  He  thought  he  was  about 
to  reach  this  great  desire.  The  shock  was  terrible. 

"Father  had  already  beheld  us  mingling  with  his 
race,  and  saw  great  possibilities  for  us,  in  his  mind's 
eye.  But  his  hopes  are  blasted.  He  sees  for  them 
only  the  desert  solitudes,  where  they  must  spend  their 
lives  in  ignorance  as  he  has  spent  his." 

"But  it  is  not  so  bad  as  that,"  said  Robert  Ray, 
encouragingly.  "You  are  educated  as  well  as  the  aver 
age  woman  of  your  age;  the  children  are  intelligent; 
you  can  help  them;  they  may  now  have  much  better 
advantages  than  you — your  father  has  money. 

"It  is  base  ingratitude,  I  admit,"  continued  Ray. 
"But  it  has  been  shown  before,  even  in  more  civilized 
communities.  Why,  I  heard  of  an  old  negro  slave 
who  got  rich  after  he  was  freed  and  built  a  church. 
He  gave  it  to  his  less  "fortunate  white  neighbors  and 
they  would  not  let  him  worship  in  the  church.  And 
there  was  Stephen  Girard,  who  founded  a  school  for 
orphan  boys.  One  of  the  young  men  who  received  a 
free  education  at  the  school  and  afterwards  became 
wealthy,  refused  to  contribute  to  a  memorial  fund  for 
his  benefactor,  because  Girard  was  not  of  the  same 
religious  belief  as  the  young  man. 

"This  was  in  the  height  of  civilization.  How  can 
we  expect  very  much  of  a  people  out  here  in  the  des- 


156  THE  TOLIv  OF  THE  SANDS 

ert  who  are  from  everywhere,  and  where  the  good 
have  not  yet  been  segregated  from  the  bad  ?  Why,  in 
Goldfield  I  saw  men  stoning  a  Chinese  restaurant 
building  and  mobbing  the  Chinese  proprietor,  who  had 
given  them  meals  when  they  were  friendless  and 
hungry. 

"Mokava  has  been  badly  treated,  but  it  is  not  time 
to  give  up.  He  is  independent,  financially." 

"I  shall  go  to  him  and  see  what  I  can  do,"  assured 
Nevada  as  Robert  Ray  was  leaving. 

"It  is  I — Nevada — father,  may  I  come  in?" 

"Yes,  come  in,  my  daughter,"  was  the  reply  in  a 
sad  voice. 

"My  father,"  she  began,  sitting  on  his  knee  and 
placing  her  arms  about  his  neck.  "You  must  not  give 
up.  It  is  too  late  to  surrender.  I  would  return  to 
our  old  times  when  we  were  here  alone — just  you  and 
mother  and  the  children  and  I,  before  these  people 
came  and  we  had  begun  to  learn  their  ways;  before 
we  knew  of  the  outside  world,  except  what  you  told  us 
upon  your  return  from  the  trading  post  about  once 
a  year.  Those  were  days  when  our  hearts  were  al 
ways  filled  with  joy.  We  didn't  know  or  care  for  any 
thing  else  then.  But  we  have  left  those  days  and 
everything  connected  with  them  and  we  can't  go  back. 
We've  started  on  the  white  man's  way  and  we  must 
follow  it.  It's  too  late  to  turn  back." 

"No,  no,  no!  It  is  not  too  late,"  replied  Mokava. 
"It  is  easy.  I  will  pack  our  old  things — the  old  pot 
and  pans,  the  tin  plates  and  tin  cups  and  the  cans,  and 
the  old  tepee — on  the  old  wagon  and  the  burros  will 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     157 

draw  us  back  to  the  spring  where  Tehana  and  I  first 
lived.  The  curse  will  not  disturb  us  there.  We  will 
then  be  away  from  these  white  men.  They  are  thieves 
and  robbers.  They  have  made  me  rob  and  steal.  They 
made  me  take  money  for  the  spring  and  grounds.  They 
did  not  belong  to  me — they  belonged  to  all  alike.  Then 
they  rob  others.  They  sell  them  the  water  and  the 
land  in  small  dribs.  Then  they  tell  lies  about  Burro 
Hill.  They  sell  paper  to  strangers.  They  call  it  stock. 
It  is  nice  paper.  It  looks  like  pictures — like  money. 
But  there  is  nothing — just  a  few  streaks  of  gold  here 
and  there.  It  is  no  good. 

"And  I — I  took  money  for  it,  Nevada.  I  am  as  bad 
as  they.  And  now  I  suffer.  Your  mother  knows  bet 
ter.  She  knows  what  it  will  come  to.  She  remembers 
the  old  legend  of  her  tribe.  It  is  all  because  I  didn't 
pay  for  my  squaw.  Let  us  go  away.  Let  us  hurry. 
I  do  not  want  to  see  the  white  men  any  more !" 

"No,  father,  we  cannot  go  back.  I  have  promised 
to  marry  Tom  Lansing.  You  gave  your  consent.  You 
would  not  break  your  promise  to  him;  you  would  not 
have  Amosa  and  Grant  go  back.  They  have  gotten 
a  taste  of  the  white  man's  way  and  they  would  never 
be  contented.  There  is  a  place  yet  for  them.  The  gov 
ernment  Indian  school  will  welcome  them.  The  Great 
White  Father  does  not  look  for  the  difference  in  the 
color  of  his  children.  Their  blood  is  all  the  same  to 
him.  They  are  broader  minded  people  than  those  who 
live  at  Mokava.  You  are  getting  along  in  years.  You 
do  not  care  for  the  white  man's  ways.  You  started 
too  late.  But  Amosa  and  Grant  are  young.  They 

6 


158  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

must  go  on.  Mother  will  make  the  sacrifice.  She  de 
spises  everything  white  except  you,  but  she  is  a  true 
mother  just  the  same.  I  have  talked  with  her.  She 
has  consented.  It  is  all  planned.  I  will  leave  with 
Amosa  and  Grant  tomorrow  for  the  Indian  school.  I 
will  teach  them,  too.  You'll  recall  that  I  was  offered 
a  position  in  the  Indian  school.  It  is  not  too  late.  I" 
will  accept." 

"But  your  promise  to  marry  Lansing,"  reminded 
Mokava. 

"He  will  have  to  wait  another  year — he  expects  it." 

"But  the  curse  of  Tehana's  tribe!  You  know  it 
runs  that  neither  Tehana  nor  I,  nor  our  offspring 
shall  ever  prosper!"  he  insisted. 

"Those  are  just  old  legends  of  the  red  men,  like 
the  myths  of  the  white  men — just  stories,  dreams,  fan 
cies — just  in  the  mind,"  explained  Nevada. 

"But  it  is  proving  true,"  said  Mokava. 

"No,  it's  the  white  man's  way  that  has  caused  all 
the  trouble,"  replied  Nevada.  "Their  customs  and 
prejudices  are  one  thing  today,  another  tomorrow  and 
another  the  next  day.  But  we  will  have  to  follow  their 
way.  It  is  too  late  to  turn  back." 


CHAPTER  XV 
AN  ENTERTAINMENT  AND  A  FIGHT 

THE  new  bungalow  of  the  Moorings  was  lighted 
as  bright  as  day.  Women  in  finery  and  jewelry, 
and  men  in  full  dress  danced  and  drank.  It  was 
the  first  society  night  in  Mokava.  Mrs.  Annette  Moor 
ing  had  announced  in  her  invitations  that  it  would  be 
in  honor  of  Miss  Eva  Martin,  the  new  teacher. 

But  it  had  other  purposes.  The  first  was  to  put  at 
rest  any  unrest  that  had  been  caused  by  the  expulsion 
of  Mokava's  children  from  the  school.  Next,  Mrs.  An 
nette  Mooring  desired  to  show  off  her  new  house  as 
well  as  her  knowledge  of  how  social  affairs  should  be 
conducted.  Then  her  husband's  business  was  in  a  pre 
carious  condition  and  she  wished  to  draw  more  cus 
tomers  to  his  bank.  If  the  bank  should  fail  Mrs.  An 
nette  Mooring  would  have  to  retire  to  another  long 
period  of  obscurity.  It  was  in  mining  booms  only 
that  her  light  had  shone  since  she  met  John  Mooring. 

"We  must  get  these  people  together  and  get  their 
deposits  into  our  bank;  and  to  do  this  we  need  the 
influence  of  Robert  Ray,  and  his  individual  account 
as  well/'  had  said  John  Mooring  to  his  wife.  "We 
must  all  get  together — form  an  exclusive  set,  you 
know — and  come  to  a  better  understanding  out  here 
in  the  desert,"  said  Mrs.  Mooring  to  her  guests. 

The  noise  of  the  merry-makers,  along  with  their 
antics,  had  driven  Ruby  Mooring  and  Robert  Ray  in 


160  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

an 

search  of  a  more  quiet  place.  Neither  of  these  young 
people  felt  comfortable  in  the  atmosphere  of  the  house. 
Wine  was  flowing,  and  with  it  ran  rife  the  latest  fads 
from  city  society,  as  Miss  Eva  Martin  sponsored  them. 
The%uests  had  free  license  and  the  orgies  ran  with 
loose  reins. 

Ray  and  Ruby  had  strolled  out  into  the  fresh  night 
air  and  had  finally  stopped  on  the  steps  of  the  new 
school  building.  Seated  there  under  the  irregular  glow 
of  the  small  street  light  over  on  the  corner  they  re 
mained  in  silence  for  a  time.  The  noise  about  them 
sounded  hollow,  lonesome,  out  there  in  the  great  desert. 
The  whir  of  the  marble-like  balls  on  the  roulette  wheels 
gathered  from  different  directions  in  the  town  below, 
and  were  wafted  up  on  the  night  breeze  in  one  har 
monious  sound.  The  falling  of  a  billiard  cue,  the  leap 
ing  of  a  ball  from  the  table  to  the  floor  from  the  awk 
ward  stroke  of  an  excited  or  drunken  player  and  the 
sharp,  bitter  oaths  from  losers  occasionally  broke  above 
the  monotonous  hum  and  cut  the  air  like  a  knife.  But 
above  it  all  came  loud  and  clear  the  raucous  shouts  and 
laughter  of  the  guests  at  the  home  of  Mrs.  Annette 
Mooring. 

"I  love  the  quiet — I  do  not  enjoy  the  kind  of  fun 
those  people  are  having,"  said  Ruby  Mooring.  "It 
seems  so  out  of  place,  so  unjust  to  those  who  cannot 
afford  the  necessaries,  much  less  the  luxuries  of  life. 
Here  we  are  spending  hundreds  of  dollars  tonight  to 
entertain  those  people  who  do  not  care  for  it,  when  a 
few  months  ago  mother  and  I  were  glad  to  get  ordi 
nary  meals — at  cheap  restaurants,  at  that !  Excuse  me 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     161 

for  divulging  delicate  personal  secrets,  but  that  is 
where  we  met  Miss  Martin.  She  was  cashier  at  a  res 
taurant  where  we  ate  and  used  to  help  us  along.  That 
is  why  mother  and  father  were  so  interested  in  get 
ting  the  school  for  her.  But  it  has  been  this  way  with 
us  all  of  the  time  I  have  been  with  them.  Father 
says  it  is  the  way  of  the  life  of  the  mining  man — up 
one  day  and  down  for  a  year  to  make  up  for  it." 

"I  hope  the  prosperity  will  last  this  time,  especially 
for  your  sake,  Miss  Mooring,  but  it  is  all  a  gamble, 
and  I  don't  know  yet  what  kind  of  a  card  we  are  hold 
ing,"  replied  Ray. 

"I  am  aware  of  the  conditions — in  a  measure,"  re 
plied  the  girl.  "I  fear  that  I  know  too  much  about 
affairs  for  my  own  personal  comfort.  Mother  is  like 
father.  She  soon  forgets  old  conditions  and  spends 
money  like  a  sailor  while  it  lasts.  I  can't  forget  those 
dreary  days  when  we  didn't  know  where  our  next  meal 
was  coming  from,  and  when  the  thought  of  getting 
more  clothes  was  even  avoided.  I  hope  you  do  not 
consider  me  indiscreet  in  speaking  so  frankly  of  our 
affairs,  but  a  woman  must  have  somebody  in  whom 
to  confide.  Mother  and  father  cannot  get  it  out  of 
their  heads  that  I  am  anything  but  a  child,  and  I  can 
never  get  to  talk  with  them  in  grown-up  conversation. 

"I  know  you  do  not  like  father,"   she  continued, 
after  a  pause,  "and  I  do  not  blame  you — that  is  your 
and  his  matter — but  I  know  you  would  not  take  ad 
vantage  of  anything  I  tell  you  in  a  way  to  injure  him 
I  am  making  you  my  confessor  without  your  consent, 


1 62  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

and  you  know  anyway,  such  communications  are  privi 
leged." 

"You  are  mistaken,"  replied  Robert  Ray.  "I  have 
nothing  against  your  father,  personally.  We  don't 
like  the  way  some  people  do,  and  I  have  not  approved 
many  of  your  father's  acts,  but  he  has  not  hurt  me  in 
any  way,  individually.  I  am  not  a  wholesale  censor 
of  others.  We  all  have  enough  faults  without  going 
around  with  stones  in  our  pockets  to  throw  at  others." 

"I  am  glad  you  feel  that  way,"  said  the  girl.  "I 
was  afraid  you  would  take  the  defeat  of  Nevada  to 
heart.  Her  father  built  this  house  expecting  her  to  be 
the  teacher;  he  is  even  paying  the  salary  of  Miss  Mar 
tin  now.  It  looks  unjust.  I  was  afraid  you  would 
never  forgive  my  parents." 

"No,  no;  Nevada  understands,"  explained  Ray. 
"Her  father  does  not.  But  she  will  finally  bring  him 
around  to  see  the  matter  right.  Nevada  is  reasonable. 
She  knows  that  it  would  not  have  been  the  proper 
thing  for  her  to  have  taken  the  school,  with  the  preju 
dice  against  her  Indian  blood.  But  Mokava  is  taking 
it  hard.  Since  Nevada  left  with  the  children  for  the 
Indian  school  he  has  been  drinking.  I  have  been  a 
little  uneasy,  but  have,  and  shall  continue,  to  keep 
watch  on  him." 

"That  is  so  nice  of  you — every  one  speaks  so  well 
of  you — except — " 

"That  reminds  me!"  interrupted  Ray.  "I  have  been 
intending  to  ask  you  how  you  managed  things  in  San 
Francisco  that  night,  but  could  never  think  of  it  be 
fore  when  we  were  together.  How  did  you  explain?" 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     163 

"Oh,  it  was  so  simple,  after  all  of  my  alarm,"  be 
gan  the  girl.  "You  see  he  had  been  drinking  for  nearly 
a  week.  He  was  to  have  come  with  father  on  this 
trip  at  first.  He  and  father  had  met  at  the  strike  in 
Nome  and  raked  up  enough  money  between  them  to 
get  out  of  Alaska.  Mother  came  down  with  them, 
you  know,  and  I  joined  them  in  San  Francisco — I  was 
just  from  school.  They  introduced  Mr.  Brush  to  me 
and  he  immediately  seemed  to  think  that  he  had  the 
right  to  my  society,  whether  it  suited  me  or  not.  I 
do  not  know  what  mother  and  father  may  have  told 
him.  They  may  have  encouraged  him.  I  think  he 
supplied  most  of  the  money  for  them  all  to  get  out  of 
Nome.  Anyway,  he  acted  as  if  he  thought  he  owned 
all  of  us,  especially  when  he  became  intoxicated.  I 
evaded  him  more  and  more  as  he  became  the  more 
intolerable. 

"He  had  taken  a  room  near  our  suite — the  room  you 
rented  from  me  that  night.  After  I  had  absented  my 
self  every  time  he  came,  for  several  days,  he  went  away 
and  began  to  drink  heavily.  He  sent  the  key  in  by 
father  and  gave  up  the  room.  But  that  night,  after 
father  and  mother  went  out — he  must  have  seen  them 
on  the  street — well,  anyway,  he  came  up  and  you  know 
the  rest!" 

"But  how  did  you  extricate  yourself  from  the  di 
lemma  in  which  I  left  you?"  asked  Ray,  concealing 
the  old  anger  that  was  aroused  at  the  thought  of  that 
night. 

"Oh,  I  was  about  to  forget,"  she  continued.  "It 
appears  that  a  Chinaman  in  the  rear  had  heard  the 


1 64  THE  TOLIv  OF  THE  SANDS 

noise  of  your  fight  and  sent  up  a  policeman.  Then  the 
policeman  went  out  on  the  roof  and  the  Chinaman 
became  still  more  alarmed  and  turned  in  the  riot  call. 
He  was  a  sort  of  spy  for  the  officers  for  that  end  of 
town. 

"I  became  alarmed  for  you  while  the  officer  was 
out  on  the  roof  and  called  him  back,  promising  to  tell 
him  everything,  but  before  I  had  time  to  invent  a 
story,  the  riot  wagon  arrived  and  the  room  filled  with 
plain  clothes  men.  I  was  certain  now  that  you  had 
had  time  to  escape  and  did  not  attempt  to  explain. 
They  rushed  out  on  the  roof,  but  left  the  policeman 
with  me.  Soon  we  heard  a  noise  in  the  other  room. 
It  was  Mr.  Brush,  and  when  the  policeman  broke  in 
his  door,  Mr.  Brush  told  the  funniest  story.  He  said 
that  he  had  brought  a  longshoreman  to  his  room  with 
him  for  something,  and  that  the  fellow  had  struck  him 
from  behind  with  a  slung-shot  and  robbed  him. 

"The  physicians  at  first  thought  his  skull  was  frac 
tured  and  took  him  to  a  hospital.  But  he  was  out  in 
a  few  days.  He  has  never  mentioned  the  matter  to 
me,  nor  I  to  him.  I  was  so  anxious  to  talk  with  you 
on  the  boat  next  morning  and  explain,  but  could  not 
get  a  chance,  and  dropped  that  package  for  an  ex 
cuse,  but — " 

"That  package!"  interjected  Ray.  "It  aroused  my 
curiosity  again  later.  When  your  father  and  I  were 
lost  on  the  desert,  and  it  looked  as  though  we  would 
perish,  he  took  the  package  from  his  pocket  and  gave 
it  to  me,  saying:  'Bob,  your  chances  are  best.  Take 


THE  TOLL,  OF  THE  SANDS  165 

this,  and  if  you  survive  and  I  do  not,  follow  the  in 
structions  on  the  back  of  the  package/ 

"Well,  I  took  it  and  guarded  it  as  closely  as  I 
guarded  my  life  until  your  father  was  brought  in  from 
the  desert  by  Mokava,  and  until  he  was  on  the  fair 
road  to  recovery,  when  I  restored  it  to  him." 

"Did  you  read  the  instructions  on  the  back?"  asked 
the  girl. 

"Yes,"  blushed  Ray,  guiltily.  "I  wanted  to  know 
what  I  should  be  expected  to  do  should  he  pass  away." 

"Oh,  you  men  who  have  no  curiosity!"  laughed 
Ruby.  "When  it  is  certain  that  I  am  dead,  open  this 
package  and  follow  the  instructions  inside — John 
Mooring,"  repeated  the  girl. 

"Then  you  have  read  it,  too !"  chided  Ray. 

"I  wanted  to  know  what  I  should  be  expected  to  do 
should  he  pass  away,"  replied  Ruby.  "You  see,  father 
always  gave  the  package  to  my  care  while  he  was  at 
home,  but  when  he  would  start  to  leave  he  always 
asked  for  it.  He  has  it  in  the  vault  at  the  bank  now, 
but  has  shown  me  where  it  is,  should  anything  hap 
pen.  Now,  we  both  have  been  custodians  of  that 
mysterious  package;  isn't  it  a  strange  coincidence?" 
she  asked,  drawing  the  light  wrap  closer  about  her 
shoulders. 

Robert  Ray  fixed  the  wrap  more  snugly  and  drew 
her  closer  to  him. 

"Ruby — Miss  Mooring,"  said  Ray  after  a  pause, 
"I  have  been  anxious  to  tell  you  something  for  a  long 
time.  Something  that — " 


1 66  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

"Ru-by!"  arose  a  call  from  above  the  din  at  the 
Mooring  home. 

"Yes,  we  are  coming !"  shouted  Ruby  Mooring,  im 
patiently.  "Mother  is  so  excitable,"  she  continued 
as  she  and  Ray  rose  and  hurried  toward  the  house. 

"You  are  a  nice  pair  to  run  away  from  the  party 
when  the  fun  was  just  beginning,"  scolded  Mrs. 
Mooring  as  the  two  entered  the  house.  "Besides,  Ruby, 
Mr.  Brush  went  away  very  angry.  Your  conduct  was 
inexplicable  to  him !" 

"I'm  sorry,  Mother,  but  I  meant  no  wrong,"  ex 
plained  Ruby. 

"You  never  do,"  replied  Mrs.  Mooring,  "but  you 
are  so  indiscreet!" 

The  place  was  a  scene  of  bacchanalian  disorder. 
Women  reclining  on  men's  laps,  irrespective  of  rela 
tionship  or  former  acquaintance,  and  empty  bottles, 
distorted  corks  and  broken  glasses  were  lying  about 
the  floor,  while  discordant  songs  crossed  each  other  in 
maudlin  voices;  and  disheveled  heads,  bleared  eyes 
and  exposed  limbs  accorded  with  the  soiled  and  dis 
arranged  clothing  of  the  guests. 

"And  yet,  the  children  of  these  people  are  too  good 
to  associate  with  the  innocent  son  and  daughter  of 
Mokava!"  whispered  Ruby  Mooring  to  Robert  Ray. 

As  the  crowd  was  dispersing  later  John  Mooring 
touched  the  elbow  of  Robert  Ray.  He  had  just  arrived 
after  the  pursuit  of,  and  a  conference  with  Andy  Brush. 

"I  would  like  for  you  to  remain  a  few  minutes  after 
the  crowd  leaves,  Bob,  if  you  can  spare  the  time," 
whispered  Mooring  with  his  old  time  familiarity. 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     167 

"Certainly,"  replied  Ray,  who  was  holding  Ruby 
Mooring' s  hand  in  the  good-night  grasp. 

"And  you  come  along  too,  Daughter,"  said  Moor 
ing,  turning  to  Ruby. 

"Well,  if  this  hasn't  been  a  wild  night — how  did  it 
all  come  out,  anyway,  Eva  ?  What  kind  of  a  hit  did  I 
make?"  asked  Mrs.  Annette  Mooring  as  soon  as  she 
was  alone  with  the  teacher.  Mooring,  Ray  and  Ruby 
had  gone  into  the  library. 

"It  has  been  a  success  all  around,  Annette,"  compli 
mented  the  teacher.  "I  was  maid  at  an  entertainment 
on  Van  Ness  avenue  before  the  earthquake,  and  they 
didn't  have  any  the  better  of  your  stunt." 

"But  it  is  a  bad  example  in  the  home  for  Ruby,"  half 
soliloquized  Mrs.  Mooring.  "And  such  people  as  some 
of  them  were !  Why,  that  Mrs.  Quinn ;  she  was  a  kept 
woman  at  Cripple  Creek;  and  Mrs.  Millard.  She  ran 
a  house  in  Nome;  and  Mrs.  Shawley;  she  was  a  street 
walker  in  Denver.  Oh,  there  was  a  bunch  of  them  here 
tonight  that  I  wouldn't  look  at  in  olden  times.  But 
they  copped  live  men  and  are  making  good  now.  We 
need  their  support  in  our  business,  you  know.  My 
husband  is  in  business  and  it  is  the  duty  of  his  wife  to 
overlook  her  social  scruples  in  order  to  help  him  out." 

"You  are  right,  dear  Annette,"  replied  the  teacher 
sadly.  "If  I  had  a  husband  I  would  go  the  limit  for 
him." 

"Never  mind,  kid,"  encouraged  Mrs.  Mooring.  "I 
will  get  you  a  man  out  here  that  will  be  worth  while. 
I  have  my  eye  out  for  you,  and  among  these  new  mil 
lionaire  bachelors  I  will  find  one  that  is  good  as  well 


1 68  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

as  rich,  though  the  two  do  not  often  go  together,"  she 
concluded,  as  she  left  the  room. 

Mrs.  Mooring  was  passing  the  library  door.  Her 
husband  and  Robert  Ray  were  in  deep  conversation. 
Ruby  was  turning  the  pages  of  a  book.  Mrs.  Mooring 
stopped  for  a  second  as  if  she  would  enter,  and  then 
started  on.  She  saw  Robert  Ray  glance  toward  her. 

"Goodnight,  Mr.  Ray.  I  hope  you  enjoyed  yourself, 
even  if  you  and  Ruby  did  play  hookey !"  she  said. 

"Thank  you !  It  has  been  my  first  real  evening  since 
the  camp  was  established,"  assured  Robert  Ray.  Then 
he  glanced  at  Ruby  Mooring. 

"I  am  at  your  service,  Jack,"  continued  Ray  after  a 
pause,  in  a  lower  voice  to  Mooring.  "My  account  will 
also  be  changed  to  your  bank.  You  say  that  Stallings 
is  meeting  with  difficulties  at  San  Francisco?" 

"Hush,  not  so  loud !"  cautioned  Mooring.  "My  wife 
is  bitter  against  Stallings  for  some  reason.  She  has 
some  kind  of  a  woman's  hunch  that  Stallings  will  never 
do  us  any  good.  She  insists  that  I  shall  let  him  out 
She  cannot  bear  the  idea  of  the  man  coming  back  to 
Mokava — just  some  fool  notion,  you  know.  But  he 
is  a  keen  one!  He  has  the  backing,  too.  He  secured 
a  temporary  extension  of  that  big  loan  and  is  trying 
to  transfer  it  to  another  concern." 

"I  don't  mean  to  use  your  money,  Bob,"  continued 
Mooring  assuringly.  "The  moral  support  is  what  I 
want.  The  transfer  of  your  account  to  our  bank  will 
show  your  confidence  in  Burro  Hill.  You  know  it  is 
generally  understood  that  our  bank  and  Burro  Hill 
are  about  the  same  thing.  Then  your  coming  back  will 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     169 

offset  the  damage  caused  by  your  unloading  your 
Burro  Hill  holdings— -nothing  bitter,  old  boy ;  bygones 
are  bygones,  you  know!  You  see  I  will  tell  some  of 
the  big  ones  who  were  here  tonight  and  they  will  noise 
the  matter  of  your  coming  to  our  bank  among  the  live 
ones.  It  will  be  getting  publicity  without  using  the 
newspapers,  you  see.  I  will  give  you  a  letter  to 
Stallings  and  you  and  he  can  work  together  at  the 
other  end  of  the  line — can  you  get  away  tomorrow, 
Bob?" 

"Just  as  well;  but,  say,  Jack,"  reserved  Robert  Ray, 
"Mokava  is  taking  that  school  episode  pretty  hard. 
He  has  been  drinking  some.  I  have  been  keeping  watch 
on  him  to  see  that  they  don't  get  him  to  gambling.  I 
shall  expect  you  to  look  out  for  him  in  my  absence." 

"Cert,  my  boy — leave  that  to  me!"  assured  Mooring. 
"And  don't  forget,"  he  said,  extending  his  hand,  "that 
old  scores  are  wiped  off  the  board,  and  that  we  are 
now  all  working  together  for  the  good  of  the  town  of 
Mokava!  Say,  that  reminds  me,  Bob;  why  not  have 
Mokava  bring  his  account  over,  too?  It  would  be 
safe  with  us — I  am  a  little  shaky  for  my  friends  who 
have  their  funds  in  the  other  bank.  Those  fellows  are 
not  quite  on  to  the  game." 

"Mokava  thinks  they  are  all  right,"  said  Ray, 
evasively,  glancing  at  Ruby.  "I  will  speak  with  him, 
though,  before  I  leave." 

But  Ray  knew  what  he  would  say.  He  was  willing 
to  take  a  chance  with  his  own  funds,  for  Ruby  Moor- 
ing's  sake,  but  he  would  advise  Mokava  not  to  change 


170  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

his  deposit  for  the  present.  He  would  wait,  at  least, 
until  a  further  interview  with  Stallings. 

Mooring  and  Ray  had  risen  to  their  feet,  and  Moor 
ing  was  about  to  accompany  Ray  to  the  door,  when 
Ruby  joined.  Mooring  glanced  at  his  daughter  and 
again  extended  his  hand  to  Ray. 

"Goodnight,  Bob,  and  good  luck!"  said  Mooring, 
as  he  left  the  two  together. 

"I  hope  you  have  enjoyed  your  evening — but  Father 
always  lugs  in  his  business  affairs,"  said  Ruby,  extend 
ing  her  hand  to  Ray. 

"Our  little  stroll  and  our  little  chat  have  over 
shadowed  everything  else  tonight,"  replied  Ray,  taking 
her  hand.  "And  you  see  the  hatchet  is  buried  all 
around,  and  you  are  the  little  dove  of  peace!" 

"But  you  are  going  away?"  recalled  Ruby. 

"Yes,  for  a  short  time — by  the  way,  would  it  be  too 
presumptuous  to  ask  you  for  a  copy  of  that  to  take 
along?"  said  Ray,  pointing  to  a  photograph  of  Ruby 
in  a  silver  frame  on  the  table.  "To  look  upon  it  would 
be  a  panacea  for  such  ills  as  arise  when  one  is  away 
from  home,  and  lonesome." 

"That  one  is  mine  and  you  may  have  it,"  she  re 
plied. 

"And  send  me  one  of  yourself  before  you  leave  in 
the  morning,"  said  Ruby,  as  she  wrapped  the  picture 
and  frame  in  a  paper.  'I  shall  wish  to  see  the  face  of 
the  father  of  the  town,  occasionally — quite  often — 
while  he  is  away !" 

"I  haven't  any  here,  but  if  the  camera  man  will  take 
a  chance  when  I  reach  San  Francisco,  I  will  send  one," 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     171 

he  smiled.    "And  now,"  began  Ray,  seriously,  "let  me 

finish  what  I  was  about  to  say  out  yonder  tonight, 
j » 

"Ru-by!"  called  Mrs.  Mooring. 

Robert  Ray  heard  her  footsteps  approaching.  He 
grasped  the  girl's  hand  softly,  stammered  out  an  awk 
ward  goodnight  and  hastened  out  of  the  room  and 
down  the  steps. 

On  his  way  home  Robert  Ray  was  informed  by  a 
friend  on  the  streets  that  Mokava  was  still  up  and  was 
drinking  at  Andy  Brush's  place.  He  went  to  the  saloon 
and  found  the  settler  leaning  against  the  bar  in  an  in 
toxicated  condition. 

"Come  with  me,"  said  Ray  kindly,  taking  his  friend 
by  the  hand. 

"What  did  it  cost  you  to  get  in  on  this?"  asked 
Andy  Brush,  insultingly,  who  had  seen  Ray  enter  the 
place,  and  was  approaching  him. 

"Just  a  short  walk — that's  all,"  replied  Ray,  angrily. 

"You  are  taking  a  little  too  much  on  yourself,  as 
usual,  Mr.  Buttinsky!"  growled  Brush,  shoving  Ray 
and  Mokava  toward  the  door. 

As  quick  as  a  flash  Ray  struck  Brush  under  the  chin 
and  he  would  have  gone  to  the  floor,  but  that  he  was 
caught  by  one  of  his  employes. 

"Release  me  and  let  me  get  at  the  young  scoundrel !" 
shouted  Brush. 

Ray,  who  was  about  to  leave  the  room,  turned. 

"Come  and  fight  me  just  as  if  you  were  a  man!" 
demanded  Brush. 

The  two  men  were  still  in  their  dress  suits.    It  was 


172  THE  TOUv  OF  THE  SANDS 

the  first  time  society  had  made  such  demands  in  the 
camp.  Brush  gave  his  hat  to  a  bystander  and  removed 
his  coat. 

"You  shall  have  fair  play  in  here — not  a  man  shall 
interfere!"  challenged  Brush. 

Mokava  had  staggered  over  against  the  end  of  the 
bar  and  had  turned  and  was  looking  at  Ray.  The  lat 
ter  glanced  about  him.  The  eyes  of  all  of  the  men 
were  upon  him.  Ray  recognized  many  friends  in  the 
crowd.  They  gave  him  encouraging  glances.  Ray  was 
not  afraid.  He  had  never  known  the  meaning  of  that 
word.  But  he  did  not  want  to  fight.  It  would  be 
noised  about  as  a  saloon  brawl.  They  would  bring 
Ruby  Mooring's  name  into  it  some  way,  he  feared.  He 
was  about  to  turn  for  Mokava  and  leave  the  place. 

"Dirty  coward!"  Brush  scowled. 

Ray  turned  like  a  flash.  His  hat  and  coat  were  in 
the  hands  of  the  now  awakened  Mokava  in  an  instant. 

Andy  Brush  smiled  contemptuously.  He  looked  like 
a  giant  stripped  for  action  against  his  lighter  foe. 

"Come  on!"  said  Ray  in  a  firm,  low  voice.  The 
gray  in  his  eyes  had  taken  on  a  more  piercing  hue.  The 
molten  steel  was  behind  them.  The  old  sparks  began 
to  flash. 

Brush  started  toward  his  antagonist. 

Ray  crouched  to  receive  him. 

"Aha!"  ejaculated  the  big  fellow.  "I  have  always 
suspected  you — I  know  you  now !  I  was  drunk  then.  I 
am  sober  now.  I  was  afraid  I  would  never  get  a 
chance  at  you  again,  you  wharf  rat !" 

But  Brush  changed  his  tactics.     He  had  recognized 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     173 

that  peculiar  crouch  of  Ray's.  It  had  been  the  first 
time  that  Andy  Brush  had  ever  gone  down  before  a 
man  with  bare  hands.  He  had  never  been  able  to 
account  for  it  except  that  he  was  drunk.  He  could  not 
believe  that  any  man,  bare-handed,  could  bring  him  to 
the  floor.  Brush  squared  himself  for  the  defensive. 

"Come  on !"  he  said. 

Before  the  words  were  off  his  lips  they  were  smoth 
ered  with  a  blow.  Ray. had  leaped  like  a  catamount, 
struck  the  man  as  if  to  irritate  him  more  than  to  hurt 
him,  and  was  again  crouched  to  receive  him. 

The  crowd  laughed.  There  are  no  friends  in  a  min 
ing  camp  when  a  fair  fight  is  in  progress. 

Andy  Brush  came  at  Robert  Ray  with  all  of  his 
weight  behind  his  big  right  fist.  He  acted  as  if  he 
would  hurl  Ray  back  and  down  by  sheer  force.  Ray 
darted  to  one  side  when  Brush  was  within  an  inch  of 
him  and  struck  the  big  fellow  again  on  the  mouth. 

With  an  oath  he  turned  at  Ray  again.  But  Ray  met 
him  this  time,  ducked  and  landed  his  right  hand  on 
Brush's  cheek.  It  was  easy  to  see  that  in  skill  Brush 
was  no  antagonist  for  the  young  man.  But  his  power 
ful  physique  and  determination  were  no  mean  assets. 

He  now  rushed  upon  Ray  in  a  clinch.  He  held  the 
young  man's  head  in  the  curve  of  his  left  arm  and 
began  pounding  him  with  his  right  in  the  ribs,  stomach 
— wherever  he  could  get  in  a  blow.  The  crowd 
started  to  interfere,  but  like  a  flash,  so  bewilderingly 
quick  that  no  one  knew  how  it  was  done,  Ray  released 
himself,  and  at  the  same  time  sent  blow  after  blow 
to  the  same  point  on  the  big  fellow's  jaw,  even  while 


174  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

Brush  was  falling,  until  he  hit  the  floor  with  a  thud 
that  shook  the  whole  house. 

Ray  waited  a  moment,  but  the  big  fellow  did  not 
rise.  While  Brush's  employes  were  engaged  in  reviv 
ing  him,  Ray  put  on  his  coat  and  hat  and  led  Mokava 
out,  followed  by  the  admiring  eyes  of  the  crowd. 

Robert  Ray  took  the  settler  to  his  home.  On  his 
way  he  informed  Mokava  of  his  contemplated  trip  the 
following  day,  and  cautioned  the  squaw  man  to  desist 
from  drinking.  He  also  told  him  to  let  his  money 
remain  where  it  was.  The  excitement  and  the  night 
air  had  brought  Mokava  to  his  senses. 

"I  expect  to  visit  Nevada  while  I  am  away,"  empha 
sized  Ray.  "I  will  not  tell  her,  but  what  would  she 
do  if  she  should  learn  that  her  father  has  been  drink- 
ing?" 

"Me  quit — me  no  drink  no  more!"  promised  the 
settler. 

When  they  reached  the  door  Ray  again  reminded 
Mokava  about  his  money,  and  to  remain  sober.  Mokava 
entered  the  adobe  in  silence.  Ray  heard  Tehana's 
voice.  It  was  in  a  higher  pitch  than  he  ever  heard  it 
before.  She  mentioned  the  name  of  Andy  Brush. 
There  was  no  Indian  word  for  that.  But  Ray  heard 
her  couple  it  with  "coyote."  He  half-way  agreed  to 
the  simile. 


CHAPTER  XVI 
THE  FLEECING  OF  MOKAVA 

ROBERT  RAY  left  on  the  morning  train  for  the 
coast.  He  was  not  thoroughly  satisfied  with  his 
act  of  turning  over  his  account  to  Mooring. 
The  good  he  had  discovered  in  the  character  of  Ruby 
Mooring  had  not  changed  his  opinion  of  her  father. 
Yet  he  knew  that  Stallings  had  some  personal  motive 
in  view.  His  advice  had  been  based  on  some  grievance 
to  himself. 

On  the  moment  of  deciding  to  return  his  deposit  to 
Mooring  Ray  took  into  consideration  his  early  meeting 
with  Stallings  and  a  further  interview  on  the  subject 
of  Mooring's  financial  stability.  As  a  subterfuge  to 
make  it  appear  to  Mooring  that  he  had  full  confidence 
in  the  latter's  good  intentions,  he  asked  Mooring  to 
look  after  Mokava  in  his  absence. 

But  he  had  gone  immediately  to  Mokava  and  ap 
pealed  to  him  personally  to  abstain  from  drink.  He 
knew  that  if  the  memory  of  Nevada's  confidence  in 
him  would  not  restrain  him  nothing  else  would.  But 
he  thought  that  it  would.  In  any  event  he  was  deter 
mined  to  ascertain  from  Stallings  as  soon  as  possible 
the  motive  behind  the  latter's  suggestion  about  the 
withdrawal  of  the  deposits  from  Mooring's  bank. 

Mooring  and  Brush  had  met  at  the  bank  shortly 
after  Robert  Ray  had  taken  the  train.  Mooring  had 
paused  in  his  explanation.  He  was  sitting  at  his  desk 


176  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

and  Brush  was  waiting  for  him  to  resume.  Mooring 
picked  up  a  pen  and  drew  a  large  circle  at  the 
bottom  of  a  sheet  of  paper  which  was  lying  on  the 
desk.  He  then  drew  a  very  small  circle  at  the  top  of 
the  sheet.  Then  he  drew  a  small,  straight  line 'con 
necting  the  two  circles. 

"That  is  our  position,  Andy,"  he  said,  pointing  to 
the  small  circle.  "We  will  call  ourselves  the  little  cir 
cle.  It  is  a  reservoir.  The  big  circle  is  the  outside 
world.  It  is  the  source  of  supply.  The  long  mark  is 
the  connecting  pipe — it  is  the  railroad.  Now  we  will 
plug  the  pipe  just  outside  the  big  circle.  That  is  the 
position  of  the  town  of  Mokava  in  the  way  of  resources. 
I  mean  money. 

"Results,"  continued  Mooring,  after  a  pause.  "When 
we  have  exhausted  what  is  in  the  little  circle — what 
money  we  now  have  in  Mokava — we  are  through.  Our 
stocks  have  quit  selling — and  that  is  all  we  have  to 
sell.  The  men  who  are  delving  beneath  the  surface  on 
Burro  Hill  have  found  nothing  to  ship.  As  I  said  be 
fore,  when  we  have  exhausted  what  cash  we  have  in 
the  town  of  Mokava  we  will  be  the  worst  busted  com 
munity  on  the  map." 

"That  is  evident,"  replied  Brush,  "but  what  are 
you  going  to  do?" 

"Die  game,  as  the  coarser  class  of  highwaymen 
would  say,"  smiled  Mooring. 

"Let  that  be  the  slogan  of  others,  but  let  us  corral 
some  of  this  stuff  in  the  small  circle  before  it  all  leaks 
out,  and  store  it  away  for  individual  use  while  the 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     177 

other  is  being  absorbed  by  the  community  at  large," 
suggested  Brush. 

"That's  exactly  what  I  am  driving  at,"  explained 
Mooring.  "We  have  a  better  chance  right  now  than 
we  will  ever  have  again.  I  want  your  steady  hand  to 
get  a  grip  on  a  good  portion  of  it,  and  it  must  be  done 
at  once!" 

"What  about  your  own  paw?"  inquired  Brush. 

"I'm  coming  to  that  now.  I  have  sent  Bob  Ray  to 
help  Stallings " 

"Two  dead  sticks!"  interrupted  Brush,  raising  his 
hand  to  his  bruised  face. 

"But  wait,"  said  Mooring,  impatiently.  "That  is 
all  a  part  of  the  game.  I  got  Ray  to  change  his  bank 
account  to  this  bank  before  he  left,  but  that's  just  an 
item.  Stallings  and  he  will  get  another  extension  on 
that  San  Francisco  loan;  and  when  you  get  in  your 
work  we  will  be  ready  to  fail  at  any  moment." 

"My  work?  You  haven't  named  it  yet,"  inquired 
Brush,  continuing:  "You  said  that  fellow  Stallings 
was  going  to  start  things  this  way — open  the  flood 
gates  from  the  big  circle  and  overflow  the  little  circle, 
drown  it  out,  as  I  understood  it — but  the  current  or 
stream  was  cut  off  as  soon  as  he  got  down  there  and 
a  small  draft  has  been  exhausting  our  supply  by  slow 
degrees  ever  since." 

"Ray's  deposit  has  filled  the  vacuum  in  our  part  of 
the  circle,"  smiled  Mooring,  "and  you  will  soon  have 
enough  in  the  private  storage  to  fix  us  for  a  season,  at 
least!" 

"But  what  is  the  game?"  insisted  Brush. 


1 78  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

"The  squaw  man,"  replied  Mooring. 

"He's  on  a  drunk — been  drunk  ever  since  Ray  left 
camp;  started  as  soon  as  his  kids  left  for  the  Indian 
school,"  explained  Brush.  "Why,  his  old  squaw  led 
him  home  by  the  ear  last  night  after  cleaning  out  Jake's 
place — I'd  like  to  see  her  raise  a  rough  house  in  my 
place!" 

"Now  you  are  getting  at  the  point,"  smiled  Mooring. 
"I  knew  all  you  have  told.  I  sent  Ray  away  as  a  part 
of  the  whole  plan.  I  could  have  gotten  his  account 
without  that — he  fell  easy.  He  was  at  the  entertain 
ment,  stuck  on  Ruby,  you  know!  But  that  is  neither 
here  nor  there.  I  want  the  squaw  man's  account  trans 
ferred  to  this  bank — not  in  his  name,  either,  but  to  our 
private  account.  I  want  it  in  our  little  individual  stor 
age  department,  since  we  have  used  that  term  as  de 
scriptive  of  our  personal  holdings." 

"It  is  easy  to  plan,"  philosophized  Brush. 

"Easier  to  execute  in  this  case.  Go  down  to  the 
adobe  in  your  auto;  tell  old  Mokava  that  you  want  to 
take  him  out  for  a  ride;  drive  him  around  for  awhile 
and  boost  for  Nevada.  Tell  him  about  her  intelligence 
and  education — leave  off  the  beauty  gag;  he'll  think  you 
are  stuck  on  her  and  that  would  queer  the  game.  Then 
take  him  to  our  place.  Have  the  boys  posted  and  get 
him  to  play  a  few  sociable  whirls  at  roulette.  Put  in 
with  him  and  have  the  croupier  pay  whether  you  win 
or  lose.  Divide  up  the  winnings.  Let  the  drinks  flow 
freely.  Then  suggest  that  you  and  him  try  your  luck 
alone,  and  you'll  drop  out  when  he  gets  started — oh, 
what  do  I  mean,  telling  you  about  your  own  business  ? 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     179 

You've  fleeced  hundreds.  The  squaw  man  will  fall 
easy !  But  don't  forget  the  drinks  and  the  old  squaw ! 
Keep  plenty  of  the  drinks  at  his  elbow  and  have  the 
boys  throw  the  old  woman  out  if  she  bothers." 

"What  about  Ruby?"  asked  Brush,  after  he  had  con 
sented  to  the  plan  to  fleece  the  settler. 

"Oh,  you  ought  to  manage  that — you  have  a  clear 
field,  now  that  Ray's  out  of  the  way!" 

"I  can  manage  some  men,  and  some  classes  of 
women,"  continued  Brush,  hesitatingly,  "but  that  girl 
of  yours  is  different  from  others ;  she  has  a  head  of  her 
own — takes  after  her  mother,  in  some  ways.  Every 
time  I've  broached — even  gotten  ready  to  broach  the 
subject,  she  switched  the  conversation,  got  away,  or 
threw  me  off  the  track.  I  believe  she  is  hopelessly  in 
love  with  Traitor— Ruffian  Ray !"  " 

"Easy  Ray,"  corrected  Mooring. 

Andy  Brush's  hand  again  went  to  his  face.  This 
time  he  felt  tenderly  about  the  lower  part  of  his 
left  jaw. 

"Wife  and  I,"  continued  the  banker,  "tried  soft- 
soaping  and  baiting  at  the  same  time — invited  him 
over,  left  him  and  Ruby  alone  together — and  it  won! 
Why  don't  you  try  similar  plans  on  Ruby  ?  Try  cooing 
words  and  a  flash  of  your  bank-book !  All  women  are 
more  or  less  susceptible  to  flattering  words  and  bank 
rolls,"  said  Mooring,  nudging  Brush  gently  in  the  side. 

"She  won't  give  me  a  chance — you  saw  her  duck 
with  Bob  Ray  last  night?  That  fellow  and  I  had  a  little 
tilt  later  on,  but  next  time  it  will  be  a  funeral  for  one  or 


i8o  THE  TOLIv  OF  THE  SANDS 


the  other  of  us!"    Brush's  hand  again  went  to  a  sore 
spot  on  his  face. 

"Oh,  attend  to  Ray  as  you  like,  but  leave  Ruby  to 
Mrs.  Mooring  and  I,  if  you  have  too  faint  a  heart  to 
win  a  fair  lady.  Each  of  us  generally  gets  what  he 
starts  after,  and  when  we  both  put  our  shoulders  to 
the  same  wheel,  it  has  to  move — leave  it  to  her  mother 
and  I,"  encouraged  Mooring,  as  Brush  left  the  place. 
*  *  #  *  * 

Half  the  gamblers  in  camp  had  gathered  at  the  Big 
Casino,  the  place  owned  by  Mooring  and  Brush,  but 
which  was  run  by  Brush.  The  news  had  spread  that 
Mokava  had  gone  home  and  kissed  his  squaw  wife  for 
luck  and  had  returned  to  break  the  Big  Casino  gambling 
house. 

"And  you  never  heard  of  such  luck  in  the  biggest 
day  of  the  Klondike!"  declared  an  old-time  gambler 
from  the  north.  "That  squaw  man  is  mad.  He  has 
relieved  the  roulette  wheel  of  three  bank  rolls  in  regu 
lar  order  already,  and  the  games  all  over  town  have 
stopped  so  that  the  dealers  may  go  over  and  see  the 
old  squaw  man  rake  down  the  coin,"  ran  the  report. 

And  it  was  not  far  wrong.  Mokava  was  having  one 
of  those  runs  of  luck  that  frequently  happens  to  the 
novice,  which  makes  the  proprietors  of  gambling 
houses  tremble  while  it  lasts.  Banker  Mooring  had 
come  down  himself  to  watch  the  game. 

Whether  he  played  the  numbers  straight  up  or 
double,  or  on  the  corners,  they  came  his  way.  Then 
he  switched  to  the  black,  the  ball  followed;  when  he 
turned  to  the  red  it  bounded  over  into  a  corresponding 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     181 

color.  Then  he  would  throw  a  pile  of  chips  on  the 
double  and  single  in  the  green  and  the  ball  yielded  to 
his  spell. 

Drinks  were  brought,  but  they  stood  in  rows  on  the 
trays  while  Mokava's  busy  hand  drew  in  his  winnings. 
It  required  call  after  call  by  the  waiter  before  he  would 
stop  to  take  a  drink.  He  was  luck-mad.  The  oldest 
gamblers  could  not  recall  such  a  run  of  luck  in  all  of 
their  experience.  The  settler  stood  with  clenched 
teeth  and  eager  eyes,  oblivious  to  everything  but  the 
game  which  he  was  playing. 

"He  is  the  master  of  the  god  of  luck,"  whispered  an 
old  gambler  as  the  crowd  gathered  about  him  with  a 
sort  of  awe. 

There  was  no  chance  to  cheat  the  winner.  He  was 
surrounded  by  competitors  from  the  other  gambling 
houses.  They  would  have  liked  to  see  the  Big  Casino 
forced  to  close  its  doors.  A  dozen  men,  gray  in  the 
cause,  kept  close  mental  account  of  Mokava's  playing. 
Had  the  dealer  withheld  one  chip  a  storm  would  have 
been  raised.  There  is  a  certain  atmosphere  about  a 
winner  that  always  protects  him  in  a  public  game.  It 
is  the  code  of  gambling.  The  cut-throat  who  would 
lay  in  wait  for  him  outside  and  take  his  last  cent  would 
fight  for  his  protection  while  at  the  game  and  win 
ning.  It  is  stronger  than  the  code  of  honor  among 
thieves. 

"Say,  you  have  gotten  us  into  a  pretty  mess!"  re 
marked  Brush  to  Mooring.  "That  old  fool  will  have 
the  contents  of  your  little  circle  in  his  pockets  in  a  few 


182  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

more  hours,  and  I  believe  he  would  finally  get  the  con 
tents  of  your  big  circle  if  he  had  connection  with  it!" 

"Get  him  drunk!  Get  him  drunk!  !"  whispered 
Mooring. 

"Can't  do  it.  He  is  luck-mad,"  replied  Brush. 
"Whiskey  don't  phase  him  any  more  than  that  much 
water!" 

"He's  winning  Bob  Ray's  money  now,"  said  Moor 
ing.  "I'll  have  to  get  into  the  vault  and  tap  the  current 
funds  if  he  keeps  this  up." 

"Let's  get  out  of  here — we're  Jonahs !"  said  Brush. 
"Say,  Dick,"  he  called  to  the  house  manager,  "Moor 
ing  and  I  are  going  over  to  the  bank  where  we  will 
be  handy  to  the  rest  of  the  bank-roll.  We  will  be  in 
the  private  office.  Send  over  to  the  Little  Monte  Carlo 
and  get  that  hunchback  croupier — get  him  at  any  price 
— and  have  him  try  his  luck  against  the  squaw  man. 
When  the  cash  gets  low  again  send  over  to  the  bank. 
We'll  wait  there  until  he  gets  it  all.  Rap  three  times 
on  the  door — oh,  it's  midnight  now.  We  won't  have 
to  wait  till  day.  He'll  have  it  all  by  four  o'clock!" 

Daylight  came  and  Mokava  was  still  at  the  wheel. 
Tehana  had  tried  several  times  to  rescue  him,  but  the 
men  drove  her  back.  One  finally  placed  the  muzzle  of 
a  revolver  in  her  face  and  told  her  he  would  shoot  the 
next  time  she  disturbed  the  place.  The  account  showed 
that  Mokava  had  been  see-sawing  with  the  wheel  for 
several  hours  at  sunrise. 

If  there  was  any  difference  it  was  against  the  settler. 

The  croupiers  had  been  changed  every  thirty  min 
utes  during  the  latter  part  of  the  night.  When  the 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     183 

hunchback  tired,  another,  supposed  to  possess  some  spe 
cial  charm  against  the  winner,  was  brought  forward. 
There  was  a  demand  for  the  men  who  were  generally 
barred  from  behind  the  wheels  on  account  of  their  spe 
cial  deformities,  which  were  regarded  as  impenetrable 
shields  against  the  arrows  of  the  god  of  luck,  but 
Mokava  had  broken  all  records.  One  after  another 
had  lost  to  the  settler  and  left  the  stand  in  deep  humilia 
tion.  All  the  early  hours  of  the  morning  the  settler 
had  stood  a  menace  to  the  fortune  of  Mooring  and 
Brush. 

At  noon  Mokava  was  still  playing,  his  eyes  half- 
closed  and  his  body  in  a  tottering  condition.  But  he 
handled  the  checks  with  a  mechanical  correctness  that 
was  astonishing.  Mokava  had  sent  to  his  bank  for  a 
statement  of  his  account.  A  clerk  from  the  bank  sat 
near.  He  was  keeping  the  score  of  Mokava's  winnings 
and  losses. 

A  turn  had  come  in  the  squaw  man's  luck.  The  god 
of  games  had  gradually  left  him.  He  had  given  him 
many  chances  to  quit  in  the  lead,  but  the  fascination 
to  keep  on  had  overridden  the  judgment  of  Mokava,  if 
he  possessed  any  during  the  game.  He  had  reached  a 
point  in  his  winnings  several  times  that,  had  he  stopped, 
would  have  left  Mooring  and  Brush  bankrupts.  But 
the  change  in  his  luck  was  so  gradual  at  first  that  he 
hardly  perceived  it.  Then  the  down  hill  glide  became 
more  rapid. 

"Now  bring  me  whiskey!"  he  demanded. 

The  order  was  filled  and  repeated,  but  it  seemed  only 
to  aid  the  vehicle  that  was  fast  running  away  with  his 


184  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

bank  account.  The  crowd  gathered  closer  and  the 
squaw  man  played  with  steadier  nerves,  but  the  wheel 
was  against  him.  Loss  after  loss  followed. 

Mokava  was  nearing  the  end  of  his  account.  The 
bank  clerk  had  notified  him.  But  he  played  the  more 
recklessly.  He  thought  his  luck  would  return.  But 
alas  for  such  a  hope!  Hundreds  of  thousands  had 
hoped  before  Mokava. 

"That's  your  last  dollar,"  spoke  the  bank  clerk. 

Mokava  played  it  as  cheerfully  as  he  had  played  the 
first — and  lost! 

"Now,  I'll  give  you  another  chance,"  said  Brush, 
who  had  returned  and  had  been  watching  the  finish. 
"I'll  flop  you  the  dice  once;  this  against  your  new  house 
and  everything  in  it !" 

He  hurriedly  counted  out  fifty  thousand  dollars  and 
stacked  it  up  before  Mokava. 

The  settler  stood  silent  for  a  full  minute.  He  was 
weighing  his  chances  to  win.  But  what  did  he  care 
for  the  house  now  ?  All  of  his  hopes  upon  which  that 
house  was  built  were  gone. 

"I  take  you  up!"  replied  the  settler. 

Brush  shook  the  dice-box  and  rolled  the  cubes  out 
on  the  table.  Three  treys  showed  their  faces. 

It  was  a  poor  throw  when  so  much  was  at  stake. 
The  crowd  had  to  be  shoved  back  by  the  attendants. 

Mokava  took  up  the  box.  There  was  a  silence  that 
was  awful.  The  breathing  of  men  even  sounded  loud. 
The  fascinating  spell  of  chance  hung  over  the  crowd. 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     185 

Mokava  began  to  shake  the  box  with  unsteady  hand. 
He  rolled  the  dice  out  upon  the  table.  Two  sixes 
showed  on  the  faces  of  the  dice  and  another  trembled 
while  the  dice  poised  and  balanced  on  its  edge  for  a 
tenth  of  a  second.  Then  the  six  lay  over  on  the  side ! 
Mokava  had  lost! 


CHAPTER  XVII 
STALLINGS  AND  RAY  RECEIVE  LETTERS 


£  4  T  w*sh  *°  ^e  f  rank  with  you  and  want  you  to  be 

equally  fair  with  me,"  said  Robert  Ray  upon 

A    meeting  Horatio  Stallings.     "I  am  not  par 

ticularly  suspicious  of  you,  but  when  a  man  admits  that 

he  has  personal  motives  against  his  employer's  interest, 

there  is  such  an  inconsistency  with  honesty  in  remain 

ing  in  his  employ  that  I  cannot  reconcile  your  situa 

tion." 

"I  told  you  that  I  would  protect  you,  did  I  not?" 
replied  Stallings. 

"Yes,  but  I  am  too  much  in  the  dark  to  take  the 
word  of  a  man  who  is  practically  a  stranger  to  me, 
even  against  that  of  a  man  whom  I  know  to  be  a 
scoundrel." 

"And  you  have  returned  your  bank  account  to 
Mooring'  s  keeping?"  asked  Stallings. 

"Yes,  temporarily  —  until  I  could  talk  with  you  fur 
ther." 

"I  am  not  ready  to  disclose  anything  further  than 
I  have  already  assured  you,"  explained  Stallings.  "I 
have  carried  out  my  plans  as  I  intended.  I  have 
worked  to  keep  my  employer  going,  but  I  have  kept 
a  look  out  to  see  that  he  does  not  wrong  any  one  else. 
If  he  must  fail,  he  must  be  the  loser;  and,  his  failure 
seems  inevitable." 

"But  you  are  safe  yet,"  continued  Stallings,  after  a 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     187 

long  pause.  "I  am  not  going  to  explain  now,  but  it 
will  all  come  out  in  time.  There  is  plenty  of  time  for 
you.  I  will  let  you  know.  When  I  tell  you,  then  you 
must  withdraw  your  account  with  all  haste.  I  assure 
you,  upon  what  honor  that  I  may  have  left,  that  I  will 
protect  you,  and  that  I  will  protect  John  Mooring,  so 
long  as  I  see  a  chance  of  doing  so  without  permitting 
him  to  wrong — rob  others." 

Ray  decided  to  continue  the  work  with  Stallings,  but 
to  watch  and  study  the  man.  He  was  both  frank  and 
obscure  in  his  admissions,  and  unrelenting,  but  Ray 
could  not  resist  a  certain  confidence  in  him. 

One  of  the  first  things  that  Robert  Ray  sought  was 
a  photograph  gallery.  He  studied  the  work  in  a  dozen 
display  windows  before  he  selected  a  photographer. 
Then  he  looked  into  a  mirror  and  shook  his  head, 
doubtfully.  The  tan  of  the  desert  was  deep  and  he 
was  conscious  of  that  awkwardness  that  one  often  feels 
after  returning  from  the  easy  companionship  of 
friendly  nature  to  the  haughty  stare  of  an  exacting 
civilization.  He  wondered  if  any  artist  could  make  a 
reproduction  of  him  that  would  not  look  coarse  in  the 
eyes  of  Ruby  Mooring. 

But  he  had  promised  and  he  took  a  chance.  He 
hurried  the  picture  off  by  the  first  mail  for  fear  he 
should  not  have  the  courage  to  send  it  if  he  delayed. 

He  frequently  went  to  the  neighborhood  of  the  water 
front  rooming  house  where  he  had  first  met  and  fought 
for  Ruby  Mooring.  He  loved  to  linger  about  the  place 
where  he  had  first  looked  into  her  gentle  eyes  and 
heard  her  soft,  sweet  voice.  Then  he  took  trips  across 


1 88  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

the  bay  on  the  same  ferry-boat  in  which  they  had 
crossed.  He  occupied  the  same  seat  that  he  had  occu 
pied  when  he  saw  her  that  morning  gazing  into  space, 
blushing  with  the  consciousness  that  he  was  watching 
her,  and  still  anxious  to  convey  to  him  the  condition  of 
Andy  Brush!  Then  when  the  boat  would  whistle  for 
the  landing  on  the  Oakland  side  he  would  imagine  that 
she  was  passing  him  with  the  rush  of  passengers,  and 
he  would  rush  for  the  gangplank  and  pursue  her 
imaginary  form  behind  the  crowds,  and  continue  out 
to  the  same  place  where  she  had  stood  when  he  picked 
up  the  package  and  later  entered  the  train. 

It  was  all  silly,  even  to  Robert  Ray,  but  he  excused 
himself  on  the  ground  that  there  was  not  much  else 
to  do,  and  that  he  had  to  put  in  the  time  in  some  way. 
Stallings  had  done  about  all  that  could  be  done  for  the 
cause  which  they  both  represented,  and  Ray's  presence 
was  practically  useless,  anyway.  But  he  needed  the 
trip  and  the  rest  it  gave  him  from  the  glare  of  the 
desert  sun — and  he  had  gathered  the  courage  to  go  and 
have  it  out  with  Ruby  Mooring  immediately  on  his  re 
turn.  He  had  gained  something  by  the  trip,  anyway. 

"I  don't  see  how  we  can  do  anything  more,"  said 
Robert  Ray  a  few  days  later  in  a  very  home-sick  tone. 
"The  bottom  seems  to  have  fallen  out  of  the  town  of 
Mokava,  and  everybody  in  the  outside  world  seems  to 
know  it.  It  is  strange  that  the  people  at  home  do  not 
realize  it.  The  old  saying  that  one  has  to  go  away 
from  home  to  learn  the  truth  applies  in  this  case.  Our 
people  at  home  are  not  even  aware  of  the  fact  that 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     189 

things  are  slipping.  They  think  good  times  will  last 
forever." 

Ray  and  Stallings  were  seated  in  Ray's  room  at  the 
hotel.  They  had  exhausted  their  mental  resources  in 
planning  and  their  patience  as  well,  and  the  patience 
of  those  whom  they  had  been  trying  to  further  interest 
in  stocks  and  lots  in  the  town  of  Mokava.  The  bank 
ing  institution  which  held  the  securities  of  Mooring 
and  Brush  had  become  impatient  and  announced  that 
they  would  foreclose  when  the  notes  became  due. 

"It  has  been  a  hard  fight  ever  since  I  came  to  keep 
those  fellows  off  of  the  bank  at  Mokava,"  explained 
Stallings.  "And  raising  money,  except  in  dribs,  is  out 
of  the  question.  It  will  require  deep  mining  to  demon 
strate  whether  or  not  there  is  anything  behind  or  under 
the  place,  and  that  takes  money.  If  they  had  put  the 
money  in  deep  prospecting  instead  of  spending  it  in  fast 
living  and  gambling  as  fast  as  they  received  it  from 
the  sale  of  stocks,  they  would  have  been  in  better  con 
dition.  They  might  have  been  broke,  as  they  are  now, 
but  they  would  have  known  whether  or  not  they  have 
anything  to  tie  to.  As  it  is,  they  do  not  know  that 
they  are  broke,  and  have  nothing  to  show  for  their 
money." 

A  knock  came  at  the  door  and  a  porter  entered  with 
mail  for  the  two  men.  Stallings  received  a  letter  and 
Ray  received  two.  Ray  recognized  the  hand-writing 
of  both  Miss  Ruby  Mooring  and  her  father.  He 
opened  the  letter  from  the  young  woman  first,  and  read 
to  himself: 

"Dear  Mr.  Ray : — So  much  has  happened  since  you 


190  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

left  that  I  hardly  know  where  to  begin.  I  received  the 
photograph  in  good  condition.  It  is  fine — just  like 
you!  Wonder  when  I  shall  see  the  original  again?  I 
hope  you  are  succeeding.  Conditions  are  in  bad  shape 
here  and  getting  worse  every  day.  People  are  begin 
ning  to  leave  on  the  quiet.  Not  one  of  them  admits 
going  away  permanently.  They  give  all  kinds  of  ex 
cuses.  One  is  going  on  business,  another  to  visit  rela 
tives,  others  to  get  to  the  sea-shore  and  cool  of! — it  is 
still  very  warm.  They  all  say  they  will  not  be  gone 
long,  but  the  truth  is,  they  are  selling  out  quietly,  when 
they  can,  and  every  one  is  withdrawing  his  deposits 
from  the  bank ! 

"But  I  forgot  to  tell  you  about  poor  old  Mokava! 
They  took  advantage  of  him  while  he  was  drinking 
and  induced  him  to  gamble.  He  lost  every  cent  and 
then  gambled  away  his  home.  And  they  made  him 
vacate  the  very  next  day.  He  and  Tehana  are  now 
living  in  their  teepee  just  outside  of  town.  They 
offered  to  let  Mokava  use  a  lot  near  the  gulch,  but  he 
refused  to  accept  anything  in  the  town  limits,  and  had 
Tehana  pitch  the  teepee  on  unclaimed  ground. 

"I  do  not  think  they  will  stay  long,  however,  as 
Tehana  wants  to  go  back  to  some  place  across  the 
desert  where  they  lived  in  earlier  days.  But  Mokava 
is  holding  back  until  you  come.  He  does  not  want  to 
go  away  until  he  sees  you. 

"But  the  saddest  of  all  is  the  desecration  of  the 
new  house  of  Mokava.  They  have  turned  his  place 
into  a  terrible  resort.  Mr.  Brush  moved  his  gambling 
apparatus,  outfit,  or  whatever  you  call  it,  over  there, 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     191 

and  they  call  the  place  the  'Casino  Annex/  They  use 
the  main  room  for  gambling  and  drinking,  I  am  in 
formed,  and  pardon  me,  but  they  say  that  the  low  class 
of  women  of  the  town  occupy  the  other  rooms  in  the 
house.  I  think " 

Robert  Ray  stopped  reading  and  was  walking  the 
floor  excitedly. 

"I'm  let  out,"  laughed  Stallings.  "Mooring  says 
that  business  is  falling  off  so  rapidly  that  he  will  have 
to  cut  down  expenses  and  will  keep  you  only  in  the 
field.  He  explains  that  his  daughter  can  do  all  the 
bookkeeping  that  is  needed  and  that  I  need  not  return. 
I  guess  he  is  about  right.  He  instructs  me  to  turn 
over  everything  to  you.  You  know  about  everything 
concerning  the  situation,  so  that  with  the  papers,  which 
I  will  get  from  my  room,  we  can  close  matters  at  once. 
And,  now,  I  would  again  advise  you  to  withdraw  your 
deposit." 

Returning  to  his  room,  Stallings  re-read  the  follow 
ing  extract  from  Mooring's  letter  and  smiled: 

"As  I  said  in  the  outset,  we  must  cut  down  expenses, 
and  for  that  reason  you  may  turn  over  your  papers 
and  what  information  you  have  to  Bob  Ray.  Your 
services  have  been  perfectly  satisfactory.  You  may 
draw  on  the  bank  for  whatever  may  be  coming  to  you." 

Mooring's  letter  to  Robert  Ray  was  more  lengthy. 
He  stated  that  the  bank  was  all  right  at  home;  that  the 
money  in  the  camp  generally  was  coming  over  to 
him ;  that  it  was  better  with  them  than  it  had  ever  been 
before. 

"Take  over  Stallings'  papers,"  it  ran.     "I  have  let 


192  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

him  out.  You  will  be  able  to  handle  matters  alone, 
and  that  will  cut  down  expenses.  Extend  that  claim 
as  long  and  as  often  as  you  can.  In  the  meantime  we 
will  get  matters  in  shape  here  so  that  we  can  meet  it 
when  it  has  to  be  paid.  Stay  in  the  field  and  use  your 
judgment." 

"Yes,  I  will  stay  in  the  field — in  my  mind!"  mut 
tered  Ray.  "I  will  be  in  the  town  of  Mokava  as 
quickly  as  the  slow  desert  train  will  take  me,  after  I 
have  visited  Nevada — poor  Mokava !  As  innocent  as  a 
child,  and  yet  those  men  have  robbed  him  and  turned 
him  into  the  desert. 

"Yes,  I  will  stay  in  the  field,  but  it  will  be  in  the 
field  in  and  about  the  town  of  Mokava  until  the  settler 
gets  justice !" 

"I  forgot  to  tell  you,"  continued  Mooring's  letter. 
"We  are  having  a  little  trouble  through  some  mysteri 
ous  letters  being  sent  out  and  signed  'Flunkey.'  You 
remember  that  tramp  we  met  at  the  railroad  camp  the 
day  we  closed  the  deal  for  terminal  grounds?  You 
remember  he  was  an  assistant  cook,  and  they  had  a 
little  fun  at  his  expense.  He  seems  to  be  trying  to  take 
his  spite  out  on  me.  And  he  is  succeeding  very  well. 
They  say  he  left  the  railroad  camp  the  same  night  after 
we  left  and  has  not  been  heard  from  since — until  this 
wholesale  letter  writing  began. 

"In  some  strange  manner  he  has  learned  a  lot  about 
our  affairs,  and  knows  a  large  number  of  our  deposi 
tors.  He  states  in  his  letters  that  he  worked  in  the 
bank  as  a  janitor  and  has  inside  information  about  it. 
He  tells  them  to  watch  out  for  his  second  letter.  In 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     193 

that  letter  he  says  they  will  find  some  reliable  informa 
tion  and  good  advice.  He  has  many  of  our  old  de 
positors  suspicious  and  it  keeps  us  busy  explaining.  I 
don't  understand  the  matter  at  all.  We  did  have  a 
janitor  for  a  short  time.  But  he  did  not  resemble  this 
man  Flunkey.  He  possessed  but  little  intelligence,  be 
sides,  while  the  real  Flunkey  was  said  to  have  been  a 
man  of  extraordinarily  active  brain,  when  he  left 
liquor  alone.  He  must  now  be  on  the  water-wagon, 
for  he  is  certainly  using  his  brain  intelligently,  even 
if  he  is  using  it  in  the  wrong  way. 

"But  we  will  be  able  to  control  the  matter.  We  are 
sending  out  letters  telling  the  people  who  he  is.  We 
do  not  expect  much  further  trouble  from  that  source. 
Good  luck  to  you!" 

"I'm  going  back,"  announced  Ray  to  Stallings  as 
the  latter  re-entered. 

"I  understood  from  Mr.  Mooring' s  letter  to  me  that 
you  would  remain  here  and  plug  for  the  town  of 
Mokava,"  replied  Stallings. 

"I  am  going  back  and  plug  for  the  man,  Mokava/' 
replied  Ray,  facetiously.  "Things  are  going  to  the 
devil  in  a  hurry  out  there.  A  fellow  by  the  name  of 
Flunkey  is  adding  fuel  to  the  flame  by  sending  out 
warning  letters  to  depositors  of  the  bank.  He  was  an 
employe  of  the  railroad  construction  people  and  is  sore 
at  Mooring  for  some  reason.  We  met  him  at  a  dinner 
before  the  railroad  reached  Mokava.  He  was  a  cook, 
or  assistant  to  the  cook  of  the  company." 

Then  Ray  told  Stallings  as  much  as  he  thought  was 
proper  about  the  treatment  of  the  settler. 


i94  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

"Did  Mooring  write  you  this  about  the  squaw  man?" 
asked  Stallings  with  surprise. 

"No,  his  daughter  wrote  me;  that  girl  is  all  right!" 
boasted  Ray,  as  he  began  to  pack  his  belongings. 

"Here  are  Mooring's  papers,"  said  Stallings,  hand 
ing  a  large  bundle  over  to  Robert  Ray.  "I  will  go  over 
them  with  you  when  you  are  ready." 

"No,  it  is  not  necessary;  I've  not  the  time  to  spare," 
replied  Ray. 

Robert  Ray  was  wrapping  a  soft  cloth  about  a  frame 
containing  the  picture  of  Ruby  Mooring  before  placing 
it  in  his  suit-case. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  but  will  you  permit  me  to  look 
at  that  photograph  once  rnqre  before  you  put  it  away?" 
asked  Stallings. 

"Mr.  Stallings,  you  will  have  me  jealous  if  you  do 
not  show  less  interest  in  that  girl,"  laughed  Ray,  hand 
ing  the  picture  to  his  friend.  "You  are  getting  to  ad 
mire  her  almost  as  much  as  I.  You  never  fail  to  ask 
questions  about  her  every  time  you  see  her  picture; 
and  since  I  told  you  about  her  your  interest  has  in 
creased.  Now  you  are  gazing  at  her  as  if  she  were 
yours  and  no  one  else,  not  even  the  owner  of  that 
photograph  had  any  right  to  even  admire  her.  If  it 
wasn't  for  your  age  I'd  fear  you  as  a  rival." 

"I  ask  your  pardon,"  apologized  Stallings,  sadly,  as 
he  handed  the  picture  back  slowly,  a  tear  stealing  into 
his  eyes.  "This  lonely  life  causes  me  to  do  peculiar 
things — creates  strange  sentiments.  I  have  drifted 
about  the  world  so  long  and  experienced  so  much  that 
was  bad,  and  have  seen  so  much  treachery  on  the  part 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     195 

of  some  women,  that  the  face  of  a  pure,  innocent 
woman  appeals  to  me — touches  my  heart.  They  are 
so  much  fewer  in  these  days  than  they  were  when  I 
was  your  age,  my  boy,  that  it  does  me  good  to  hear 
of  such  girls  as  she  looks  to  be,  and  that  you  say  she 
is.  I  once  had — but,  excuse  my  sentiment!  You  will 
be  off  right  away,  will  you?" 

'"Yes ;  I  will  go  by  the  Indian  school  and  see  Nevada 
— but  then  comes  the  problem,"  paused  Ray.  "Would 
you  tell  her  of  all  that  has  happened  to  her  father,  or 
just  tell  her  of  the  best  of  the  worst  and  let  her  find 
out  the  remainder  later  on?" 

"Tell  it  all  to  her,  by  all  means,"  advised  Stallings. 
"She  will  the  quicker  get  over  it.  Besides,  there  should 
be  no  secrets  held  from  a  daughter  about  her  father. 
Husband  and  wife  may  become  estranged — either  may 
betray  the  other — but  a  daughter  is  always  the  friend 
of  her  father.  She  will  never  desert  the  father  any 
more  than  a  true  son  would  turn  his  back  on  his 
mother.  Tell  her  everything.  But  break  it  to  her  dis 
creetly.  Prepare  the  way.  From  what  you  have  told 
me  she  must  be  a  sensible  girl,  Indian  blood  or  no 
Indian  blood!" 

"Yes,  she  is — and  the  prettiest  girl  in  the  world!" 
said  Ray,  absentmindedly,  as  he  gave  Ruby  Mooring' s 
picture  a  better  place  in  his  grip. 

Stallings  looked  up  and  saw  which  girl  Ray  referred 
to  in  the  latter  portion  of  his  speech  and  smiled. 

An  hour  later,  with  grip  in  hand,  Robert  Ray  ex 
tended  his  hand  to  his  friend. 

"I  hope  we  may  meet  again,  Mr.  Stallings,  and  I 


196  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

thank  you  for  the  many  kindnesses  you  have  shown 
me,"  said  Ray.  "I  shall  do  what  you  advise  about  my 
account,  but  I  hope  you  may  relinquish  your  fight 
against  the  father  of  that  dear  girl — for  her  sake !" 

"As  to  meeting  again,"  replied  Stallings,  grasping 
Ray's  hand  cordially,  "we  shall  doubtless  do  so.  You 
know  the  world  is  getting  smaller  every  day — especially 
to  mining  men,  who  seldom  ever  have  a  fixed  habita 
tion  for  any  length  of  time.  As  to  the  girl  and  her 
father,  I  should  always  keep  such  a  girl  in  mind  in  any 
kind  of  a  fight!" 

Horatio  Stallings  sat  in  deep  meditation  for  a  long 
time  after  Robert  Ray  left  him.  Finally  he  turned  to 
an  old  valise  which  he  had  brought  from  a  closet  in 
the  room,  and  opened  it.  A  dingy,  worn  suit  of  clothes 
occupied  a  compartment  in  the  old  grip,  while  a  large 
pack  of  stamped  and  addressed  letters  occupied  another. 
He  took  up  the  old  suit  of  clothing  and  a  soiled  slouch 
hat.  The  two  matched  each  other  in  wear  and  blemish. 
He  examined  them  closely  and  approvingly  as  they 
lay  on  his  lap,  relapsing  into  a  meditative  mood  again. 

Finally  he  awoke  with  a  start,  looking  about  the 
room  wildly  for  a  moment  and  then  down  at  the  soiled 
apparel  on  his  lap.  His  face  broke  into  a  meaningless 
smile  and  he  folded  the  suit  carefully  and  placed  it  and 
the  hat  back  in  the  suit-case.  Then  he  took  up  the 
stamped  and  addressed  letters,  checked  up  each  name 
studiously,  and  went  out  and  dropped  them  in  a  mail 
box. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
RAY  BREAKS  BAD  NEWS  AND  RECEIVES  WORSE 

WHEN  Robert  Ray  reached  the  Indian  school 
he  found  Nevada  in  a  perturbed  state  of 
mind  already.  He  suspected  that  she  had 
heard  the  news  of  her  father's  misfortune  and  felt 
relieved  to  some  extent  under  the  prospect  that  he 
would  not  be  first  to  break  it  to  her. 

After  the  formal  greeting  and  the  usual  questions 
that  friends  ask  when  they  meet,  Ray  waited  for  Ne 
vada  to  divulge  the  cause  of  her  agitation.  But  she 
returned,  instead,  to  her  characteristic  silence  and  he 
began  to  probe. 

"Is  everything  going  right  with  you?"  he  asked, 
sympathetically. 

"No,  it  is  a  condition  of  uncertainties,"  she  re 
plied. 

"What  is  the  most  uncertain  part  of  the  condi 
tion?"  he  asked,  smiling  at  what  appeared  to  be  a  new 
school  phrase. 

"All  of  it — everything  is  either  gone  wrong,  or 
shrouded  in  mystery,"  she  replied.  "I  am  glad  you 
came,  Mr.  Ray — though  your  visit  is  not  a  surprise. 
You  seem  always  to  appear  on  the  scene  in  time  to 
aid  the  Mokava  family,  or  some  member  of  it." 

"But  I  failed  to  be  at  home  at  the  proper  time  to 
prevent  the  last  catastrophe!"  interjected  Ray. 

"What  catastrophe — what  do  you  mean?"  inquired 
Nevada  with  a  puzzled  look. 


198  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

Then  she  had  not  heard  of  her  father's  predica 
ment.  He  would  have  to  break  the  news,  after  all. 

"I  have  been  away  several  weeks,  you  know,"  be 
gan  Ray. 

"Yes,  I  knew  you  were  in  San  Francisco,  but  I 
have  heard  of  nothing  that  could  be  called  a  disaster 
to  our  family,"  replied  Nevada. 

"It  may  not  be  so  bad  as  I  have  suggested,"  par 
ried  Ray.  "You  say  that  much  has  gone  wrong.  I 
have  been  away  from  home  until  it  seems  like  a  cen 
tury.  Let  us  compare  notes — what  is  worrying  you 
most?" 

"Well,  among  the  least  of  my  worries  is  a  mean 
letter  from  Mr.  Lansing,"  she  began.  "He  has  be 
come  impatient  about  my  teaching,  and  thinks  he  will 
have  me  quit.  He  says  he  will  visit  this  place  in  a 
day  or  so  and  will  insist  that  I  give  up  the  position. 
He  will  be  wasting  his  time,  for  I  shall  not  resign — 
yet!" 

"There  are  many  good  reasons  for  my  stand  in 
the  matter,"  she  continued  after  a  pause,  "and  the 
most  important  one  is  the  welfare  of  the  children.  It 
would  not  be  the  proper  thing  for  me  to  leave  them 
here,  especially  Grant.  He  needs  my  constant  in 
fluence.  I  admit  my  general  insignificance,  but, 
strange  to  say,  I  am  able  to  restrain  my  brother  to  a 
great  extent. 

"But  I  have  a  dread  for  his  future.  He  is  very 
perplexing.  He  has  begun  to  show  his  real  nature 
here.  The  association  of  the  children  of  the  various 
tribes  has  aroused  all  kinds  of  foolish  notions  in 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     199 

Grant's  head.  He  has  so  changed  in  disposition  that 
one  would  hardly  realize  that  he  is  the  same  boy.  He 
has  brooded  over  the  treatment  in  that  school  matter 
at  home  until  he  imagines  that  he  is  greatly  preju 
diced  against  the  white  race.  His  associates  have 
aided  in  magnifying  his  wrongs,  real  and  imaginary. 
I  can  now  understand  why  the  uprisings  among  the 
Indians  when  they  ought  to  have  known  that  they 
had  no  chance  against  the  government.  Some  of 
them  would  go  against  the  government  today  and 
sacrifice  their  lives,  hopelessly,  if  they  had  only  a 
leader." 

"Then  she  has  not  yet  heard  anything  about  her 
father  and  mother  being  homeless — this  is  certain," 
meditated  Ray.  "I  might  as  well  tell  her  about  it  and 
have  it  over." 

"Nevada — Miss  Nevada,"  he  said  nervously,  "I 
had  hoped  that  you  had  heard  worse  news  than  you 
have  been  telling  me." 

"Is  there  worse?"  she  asked,  her  face  assuming 
the  stoicism  of  her  mother,  and  every  trace  of  worry 
leaving  it. 

"Yes!"  replied  Ray,  sadly. 

"I  might  have  known  it — the  old  tribal  legend,  you 
know!"  she  smiled  lightly.  But  there  was  no  mirth 
behind  the  smile.  It  was  an  expression  of  defiance, 
such  as  the  forefathers  of  her  mother  would  have 
returned  when  informed  by  their  captors  that  the 
stake  had  been  driven  and  the  fagots  were  ready  for 
the  torture. 

"Go  on  and  do  your  worst,  as  the  heroine  tells  the 


200  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

villain  in  some  of  the  novels  that  have  reached  the 
school,"  suggested  Nevada,  after  some  delay. 

Robert  Ray  began  to  relate  the  story  by  evading 
the  harsher  details,  and  attempting  to  conceal  the 
permanent  loss  of  the  home  and  its  furnishings,  and 
their  abandonment  for  the  old  teepee  out  in  the  strip 
of  desert  adjoining  the  town  plot.  But  as  he  pro 
ceeded  he  noticed  that  the  more  he  stripped  the  story 
to  its  cruel  barrenness  the  firmer  and  more  resigned 
became  the  expression  on  Nevada's  face.  Then  with 
out  further  attempt  at  concealment  he  finished  the 
story  as  it  had  come  to  him  in  Ruby  Mooring's  letter. 

"Poor  Father,  I  must  hurry  to  him  and  comfort 
him!"  she  said  in  a  calm  voice,  when  Ray  had  fin 
ished.  Then  turning  to  him,  she  continued:  "You 
are  returning,  may  I  not  accompany  you?" 

"Yes,  I  am  returning  tonight,  but  you  said  Lan- 
sing " 

"That  doesn't  make  any  difference!"  she  inter 
rupted,  looking  at  Ray  with  an  anxious  expression  in 
her  eyes.  But  she  did  not  detect  what  she  momen 
tarily  hoped.  "It  is  family— Father  first,  Mr.  Ray," 
she  continued,  watching  Ray's  eyes  as  if  she  would 
read  his  soul  through  them.  "Mr.  Lansing  is  kind, 
he  has  been  a  friend  of — to  me.  So  that  you  may 
not  think  me  ungrateful  I  might  repeat  the  story: 
He  was  with  a  geological  surveying  party  of  the  gov 
ernment  that  was  establishing  the  altitude  of  various 
points  in  the  Death  Valley  country.  He  was  stricken 
with  fever  and  was  brought  to  our  house;  he  sug 
gested  my  education  at  the  government  Indian  school. 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     201 

He  has  been  per — attentive  since.  I  am  thankful  to 
him,  very  much  so,  but — Father  first!  The  excuse 
to  leave  before  Mr.  Lansing  arrives  is  a  good  one/' 

She  saw  nothing  in  Robert  Ray's  face  but  deep 
meditation.  He  looked  as  though  he  had  not  heard 
her — that  his  mind  was  far  away  from  the  Indian 
school  and  those  about  him. 

"But  I  fear  there  will  be  no  way  to  restrain  Grant 
from  an  attempt  at  revenge  when  he  learns  of  the  pre 
dicament  of  Father  and  Mother,"  she  continued. 

"We  will  keep  it  from  him  until  we  get  matters  in 
better  shape,"  awoke  Ray  from  his  reverie.  "We'll 
tell  him  that  you  are  going  home  for  a  visit,  and 
that  he  must  look  after  Amosa  during  your  absence — 
put  him  on  his  own  responsibility;  that  is  the  best 
way  to  control  mankind  of  every  type." 

"I  know,"  said  Nevada,  "but  Grant  will  find  out 
the  truth,  sooner  or  later,  and  then  he  will  feel  that 
his  duty  to  avenge  the  wrongs  done  us  all  is  greater 
than  his  duty  to  stay  here  and  look  after  Amosa. 
He  knows  that  she  will  receive  the  best  of  care  here, 
anyway.  He  is  certain  to  find  out.  The  old  Indian 
telegraphy  is  still  in  use.  I  do  not  understand  it,  but 
the  children  here  learn  things  quickly  in  some  way. 
Why,  Grant  tells  me  things  about  what  is  going  on 
at  home  long  before  I  see  them  in  the  newspapers. 
He  knew  that  you  had  gone  to  San  Francisco  and 
was  going  to  visit  the  Indian  school.  It  is  rather 
strange  that  he  has  not  already  learned  and  told  me 
what  you  have  about  Mother  and  Father." 

"I  should  think  the  home  papers  would  be  ashamed 


202  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

to  publish  the  facts  about  your  father's  misfortune," 
said  Ray.  "If  they  do  not  publish  it  before  we  reach 
home  I  shall  use  my  influence  to  prevent  publicity." 

"But  they  publish  so  many  things  they  should  not 
publish — that  reminds  me,"  said  Nevada,  stopping 
suddenly  and  bringing  a  blurred  copy  of  one  of  the 
home  papers  from  a  side-room.  "I  am  surprised  at 
Ruby  Mooring,"  she  continued,  hunting  for  a  par 
ticular  article  in  the  paper.  "I  thought  she  would 
have  done  better  in  marriage — she  was  such  a 
sensible  girl !" 

"What — what  do  you  mean?"  gasped  Robert  Ray. 

"Don't  you  know?"  asked  Nevada,  innocently. 
"Oh,  that's  true,  you  have  been  away  from  home  and 
this  paper  just  came  this  morning!" 

Nevada  found  the  place  for  which  she  was  look 
ing  and  gave  the  paper  to  Ray,  pointing  out  the 
article  to  which  she  had  referred.  Ray  grabbed  the 
paper,  almost  rudely,  from  her  hands  and  began  to 
read,  to  himself: 

"IMPORTANT   SOCIAL  EVENT 

"WEALTHY  SOCIETY  GIRL  TO  WED  CAPITALIST 

"The  editor  of  this  paper  takes  pleasure  in  an 
nouncing  the  most  important  event  affecting  the 
society  of  this  city  that  has  yet  occurred.  It  was  the 
universal  popularity  of  this  paper  that  gave  the  editor 
this  exclusive  announcement  as  a  complete  scoop  on 
all  competitors. 

"It  was  done  in  such  a  quiet  manner,  too.  Last 
evening,  when  the  editor  was  puzzling  his  brain  for  a 
story  that  would  please  the  large  horde  of  readers  of 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     203 

this  paper  when  it  came  out  this  morning,  the  genial 
face  of  Banker  John  Mooring  modestly  beamed  *jn 
our  sanctum. 

"  'Can  you  come  to  dinner  with  me — just  a  pri 
vate  home  dinner,  you  know?'  he  asked  the  editor  in 
that  whole-souled  manner,  so  characteristic  with  Mr. 
Mooring,  and  which  no  scribe  would  refuse. 

"Well,  we  went! 

"Mrs.  Annette  Mooring  needs  no  introduction 
here  as  a  hostess.  The  people  of  this  prosperous  city 
have  long  since  learned  that  she  does  things  in  a 
social  and  entertaining  way  on  a  broad  and  up-to-date 
style. 

"That  dinner! 

"This  scribe  has  done  society  on  the  largest  news 
papers  in  the  various  cities  of  the  country  in  his  day, 
and  was  never  criticised  for  failing  to  meet  the  occa 
sion.  But  this  is  one  time  in  his  life,  when  as  editor 
of  his  own  sheet,  he  refuses  to  attempt  to  describe 
the  substantiate  and  delicacies  that  fairly  made  the 
table  groan  under  their  precious  weight! 

"Banker  Mooring  had  truthfully  said  it  was  a  pri 
vate  affair,  but  he  had  wilfully  misled  the  editor 
about  the  gorgeousness  of  the  sumptuous  repast.  He 
had  said  it  was  an  ordinary  family  dinner! 

"If  the  Moorings  have  such  dinners  every  day  this 
scribe  begs  to  be  excused  from  boarding  at  their 
home — he  does  not  wish  to  fill  a  premature  grave 
from  over-eating! 

"But  it  was  private.     Only  the  host  and  hostess 


204  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

and  their  charming  daughter,  Miss  Ruby,  and  Mr. 
Andy  Brush  and  ye  scribe  were  present! 

"It  was  the  most  unique  announcement  this  editor, 
with  his  wide  experience,  has  ever  heard.  It  was 
made  by  the  prospective  bridegroom,  himself! 

"When  we  had  reached  the  wine  number  on  the 
menu — and  the  wine  was  from  Andy's  place,  and  it 
was  Andy's  best — Mr.  Brush  arose,  and  after  we 
had  all  risen  with  glasses  in  hand,  except  Miss  Moor 
ing,  who  sat  all  covered  with  befitting  blushes,  Mr. 
Brush  said: 

"  'It  gives  me  pleasure  on  this  befitting  occasion, 
with  the  permission  of  the  young  lady's  parents, 
first  had  and  received,  to  announce  the  engagement 
of  their  charming  daughter — Miss  Ruby — and  your 
humble  servant;  marriage  to  take  place — ' ' 

Robert  Ray  crumpled  the  newspaper  in  his  hands 
and  rose  from  his  seat,  every  drop  of  blood  leaving 
his  face. 

"You  haven't  finished  yet — you  haven't  read  the 
reference  to — you — and — me!"  called  Nevada,  bewil 
dered,  as  Ray  rushed  out  of  the  door  and  into  the 
fresh  air. 

Robert  Ray  wandered  about  the  school  grounds  like 
an  addled  tiger.  At  times  he  would  straighten  up  in 
all  of  his  manliness  and  appear  to  shake  off  the  blow 
that  still  lay  like  a  heavy  weight  upon  him.  Then 
he  would  sink  upon  a  settee  or  bench  and  collapse  into 
a  state  of  most  utter  dejection. 

If  the  pupils  who  saw  him  had  been  other  than 
descendants  of  a  stoic  race  they  would  have  raised  an 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     205 

alarm  that  would  have  attracted  the  whole  school, 
but  they  passed  on  about  their  routine  as  if  Ray's 
conduct  was  not  out  of  the  ordinary. 

"Ru— by!  Ru— by!  Andy  Brush!"  alternately, 
quivered  on  his  lips,  repeatedly. 

Then  he  recalled  the  cry  of  Nevada  as  he  left  the 
room — "The  reference  to  you  and  me!" 

"Reference  to  me?"  he  exclaimed  in  choked  breath. 
"To  Nevada  and  me!" 

Then  his  anger  rose  again  like  that  of  a  pricked, 
wounded  animal.  He  raised  himself  up  and  walked 
about  to  start  the  blood  into  circulation.  It  felt  as 
if  it  were  frozen  in  his  veins.  Then  he  sat  down 
again  and  nervously  straightened  the  crumpled  news 
paper.  Beneath  the  account  of  the  announcement  of 
Ruby  Mooring' s  and  Andy  Brush's  engagement,  an 
other  article  appeared  under  the  head: 

"Other  Soicety  Notes." 

Robert  Ray  read: 

"And  there  is  a  rumor  that  our  popular  young  fel 
low  townsman,  Mr.  Robert  Ray,  known  as  the  young 
father  of  the  city,  will  spring  a  surprise  on  his  return 
from  the  coast. 

"It  is  said  that  the  principal  object  of  his  trip  is 
to  bring  back,  as  bride,  the  daughter  of  the  man  for 
whom  the  town  was  named.  This,  too,  in  the  face 
of  the  general  idea  which  prevailed  to  the  effect  that 
Miss  Nevada  was  to  have  been  led  to  the  altar  by 
her  childhood  friend,  Mr.  Thomas  Lansing.  That 
engagement  is  said  to  have  been  suddenly  broken 
off!" 


206  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

Ray  sat  like  a  man  trying  to  unravel  a  mysterious 
puzzle  for  a  few  minutes.  Then  his  face  lighted 
slightly  and  he  thought  he  saw  more  clearly.  His 
anger  rose  in  proportion. 

"So  Mr.  Brush,  you  have  hatched  out  a  plausible 
lie!  And  Jack  Mooring!  You  have  sacrificed  her!" 
After  a  long  pause  he  continued  under  his  breath :  "I 
fell  for  your  scheme  and  came  away.  Mokava  and 
your  daughter  have  paid  for  my  blunder!" 

For  the  first  time  in  Robert  Ray's  life  the  spirit  of 
murder  entered  his  heart.  He  looked  at  his  watch 
and  then  consulted  the  railroad  time  table  in  the  news 
paper  that  had  just  shaken  his  very  soul.  He  wanted 
to  see;  maybe  the  railroad  had  changed  its  schedule. 
But  it  had  not,  and  he  rushed  back  to  Nevada  and 
they  hurried  preparations  to  catch  the  first  train. 


CHAPTER  XIX 
A  SHOT  FROM  THE  DARK 

THE  SIGN  of  the  Casino  Annex  blazed  in  electric 
letters  over  the  front  of  the  old  Mokava  home. 
The  house  had  been  re-wired  inside,  and  from 
every  opening  came  flashes  like  those  from  searchlights 
as  the  surging  crowds  passed  from  between  the  open 
ing  and  the  clusters  of  electric  bulbs. 

Loud  laughter  of  women  and  men,  mingled  with  the 
noises  of  gambling  devices,  interspersed  with  the  oaths 
of  those  who  swore  when  they  lost  and  those  who 
swore  when  they  won,  broke  out  on  the  night.  Wires 
had  been  run  among  the  branches  of  the  cottonwoods 
which  stood  above  the  improvements,  and  the  lights 
from  these  and  the  bright  walks  below,  with  benches 
scattered  here  and  there  in  the  shadows,  gave  the  place 
the  appearance  of  a  small  park.  The  overflow  of 
humanity  from  the  house  had  filled  the  space  outside. 
The  people  of  the  town  of  Mokava  had  come  to  spend 
the  evening  in  the  camp's  coolest  place. 

It  was  a  small  Monte  Carlo  without  the  finely- 
dressed  women  and  the  swagger  men  with  and  without 
titles;  without  the  glitter  of  such  costly  jewels;  with 
out  the  babel  of  tongues;  without  the  show  of  refine 
ment — without  any  refinement  at  all.  It  had  just  be 
come  the  favorite  gambling  and  drinking  place  of  the 
men — and  the  women,  too — who  had  gathered  out 
there  in  the  desert  from  every  nook  and  corner  of 


2o8  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

civilization,  and  from  every  kind  of  life  and  previous 
trade  and  calling. 

Thus  had  become  the  home  that  the  settler  had  in 
tended  for  Nevada — the  place  in  which  he  expected  her 
to  take  her  position  in  the  world  with  civilized  society 
in  its  best  state.  The  piano,  furniture,  carpets,  rugs, 
everything  in  the  house  had  been  interpreted  by  Brush, 
with  Mooring  in  the  background  to  aid  him,  as  going 
with  the  winning.  The  settler  did  get  the  wearing  ap 
parel  of  Nevada,  and  some  of  her  other  personal  be 
longings,  after  a  heated  argument,  but  these  were 
begrudged  by  the  new  owners. 

John  Mooring  and  Andy  Brush  sat  on  a  rustic  seat 
beneath  an  isolated  clump  of  bushes  and  watched  the 
throngs.  The  glory  of  the  spectacle  was  all  theirs. 
They  often  came  out  of  evenings  and  sat  together  and 
discussed  their  plans.  They  knew  what  others  did 
not — that  the  camp  was  doomed.  The  life  of  the  best 
mining  camps  departs  at  an  early  age,  and  the  life  of 
the  "boom"  camp  goes  with  a  flash  and  without 
warning. 

"I  am  glad,  Andy,  that  we  did  not  accede  to  the 
wishes  of  Mrs.  Mooring  and  Ruby  to  make  this  our 
home,"  said  Mooring.  "It  would  have  been  an  elegant 
place,  and  would  have  afforded  plenty  of  room  for  us 
all,  but  we  would  have  spoiled  the  best  paying  business 
proposition  that  we  have  left." 

"Yes,  Jack,"  replied  Brush,  "this  plant  will  get  us  out 
of  the  desert  in  pretty  fair  shape.  You  know  that  while 
a  sucker  is  born  every  second  they  only  get  ripe  for 
pulling  about  every  five  or  ten  years — when  you  use 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     209 

mining  stock  as  your  instrument.  We  will  soon  have 
all  of  the  substance  of  your  little  circle  corraled  over 
at  the  private  cache  in  the  vault.  Then  we  ought  to 
run  this  place  for  a  few  nights  for  all  it  is  worth,  and 
then  unload  it  on  some  sucker  or  an  organization  of 
suckers,  and  jump  the  town." 

"We've  got  to  do  it  quicker  than  you  think,  too," 
explained  Mooring.  "Those  Flunkey  letters  are  stead 
ily  getting  in  their  work  among  the  small  depositors, 
and  some  of  the  larger  ones  are  selling  out  and  slink 
ing  away  under  the  pretext  of  taking  a  vacation. 
Whenever  they  check  out  their  funds  I  feel  that  we  are 
out  just  that  much  and  that  we  have  stayed  another 
day  too  long." 

"How  are  Bob  Ray  and  your  man  Stallings  getting 
along?  Say,  Jack,"  continued  Brush,  "I  think  that 
fellow  Stallings  is  named  about  right." 

"Oh,  I've  let  out  Stallings  and  turned  the  job  over 
to  Bob  Ray,"  replied  Mooring.  "You  know  we  want 
to  keep  Bob  down  there.  He  would  resent  the  bad 
luck  of  the  squaw  man  and  his  loss  of  Ruby,  and  might 
withdraw  his  account  from  the  bank  before  we  finish 
our  plans." 

A  shout  of  laughter  rose  louder  than  the  other  noises 
in  the  house.  Mooring  and  Brush  went  inside  to  see 
what  had  occurred. 

"Think  of  it!"  laughed  one  of  the  women,  pointing 
her  finger  at  an  embarrassed  porter.  "Bill  saw  a  ghost 
a  few  minutes  ago.  It  was  floating  about  in  the  air 
just  above  the  ground  in  the  shadows  near  the  old 


210  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

adobe.  It  had  something  dark  in  its  hands.  Bill 
thinks  it  was  a  witch  with  her  broomstick !" 

The  crowd  all  laughed  again. 

"Now,  you  folks  think  you  have  one  on  me,"  said 
the  agitated  porter,  "but  I'm  not  joshing.  I  don't  be 
lieve  in  ghosts  any  more  than  the  rest  of  you,  and  I  am 
not  afraid  of  them,  but  I  saw  something  the  last  trip 
out  there  for  that  batch  of  wine,  that  didn't  look  good 
to  me.  I  had  had  some  trouble  getting  the  lid  off  the 
new  box  which  I  opened  and  came  out  of  the  adobe 
rather  unexpectedly.  I  came  near  running  into  a  dark 
form  with  something  in  its  hand.  I  couldn't  tell 
whether  it  was  a  man  or  a  woman — it  scooted  into  the 
thicket  so  quick  near  where  the  old  squaw  man's  teepee 
used  to  stand." 

The  crowd  was  laughing  again  when  a  waiter  came 
to  the  porter's  rescue. 

"I  had  not  told  any  one,  but  I  am  certain  I  saw 
something  moving  about  in  the  shadows  out  there 
early  in  the  evening,"  said  the  waiter. 

"Here's  another  fellow  who  has  got  'em!"  shouted  a 
gambler. 

"Say,  cut  out  this  spookey  stuff,"  cautioned  Brush. 
"First  thing  you  know  they  will  be  calling  this  the 
haunted  house,  and  that  will  be  a  fine  place  for  a 
gambling  resort!" 

"Why  didn't  you  stay  and  investigate  ?"  asked  Moor 
ing  of  the  waiter.  "If  you  don't  believe  in  spooks  why 
did  not  you  close  in  on  the  object?" 

"I  thought  nothing  of  it  at  the  time,"  explained  the 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     211 

waiter.  "Just  supposed  that  it  was  some  one  who  be 
longed  about  the  place." 

"Did  you  say  it  looked  like  a  man?"  insisted  the 
banker. 

"Didn't  say — don't  know,"  replied  the  serving  man. 
"Just  saw  a  dark  object." 

Then  the  crowd  laughed  again. 

"I  did  chase  the  thing,"  interjected  the  porter.  "That 
is,  I  started  after  it.  But  it  darted  into  that  thicket  and 
seemed  to  become  a  part  of  it." 

"Some  of  the  girls  were  out  there,  probably,"  sug 
gested  Dick,  the  manager. 

"Or  perhaps  the  old  squaw,  Tehana,  was  nosing 
about,"  said  another. 

"No,  she  left  camp  yesterday  morning,"  replied 
Brush.  "I  gave  her  a  toy  out  of  the  room  that  belonged 
to  Grant,  the  boy,  when  they  lived  here.  She  came 
here  before  she  started  away  and  began  making  signs 
and  pointing  to  the  room  which  had  been  occupied  by 
the  boy,  and  I  took  her  into  the  room  and  watched  her 
while  she  was  in  there.  She  found  a  toy  gun  which 
belonged  to  the  kid  and  made  a  to  do  over  it  that  was 
ridiculous.  She  was  as  much  pleased  as  if  she  had 
found  a  gold  nugget.  You  remember,  Pearl,"  he  re 
minded,  turning  to  one  of  the  girls,  "I  woke  you  and 
you  had  to  get  up  and  let  us  in  ?" 

"Yes,  and  that  kick  you  gave  her  was  well-deserved 
for  disturbing  me  at  that  time  of  the  morning,"  replied 
the  girl. 

"What  was  the  trouble  with  her  and  the  squaw  man 
— I  hadn't  heard  about  her  leaving?"  asked  Mooring. 


212  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

"Oh,  she  wanted  to  get  back  in  the  Death  Valley 
country,"  replied  Brush,  "and  the  old  man  didn't  want 
to  go  until  Bob  Ray  gets  back.  She  wants  to  go 
where  they  lived  before  they  found  this  place — way 
back  in  Indian  days.  She  got  tired  of  waiting  for  the 
old  man  to  get  ready  and  struck  out  alone.  She  has 
gone  ahead  to  prepare  the  way,  as  the  good  book  says, 
and  the  old  squaw  man  will  follow  as  soon  as  he  re 
ceives  the  blessing  of  Bob  Ray." 

"That  will  be  a  long  time,"  replied  Mooring,  aside 
to  Brush.  "We  shall  keep  Bob  Ray  busy  down  there 
until  the  old  squaw  man  starves  out  here.  He  will  be 
longing  for  some  of  old  Tehana's  stewed  rabbit  before 
he  sees  his  friend  Ray  again." 

"She  is  doubtless  near  her  new  home  by  this  time," 
explained  Brush.  "The  last  time  I  saw  her  she  was 
riding  the  old  burro  toward  the  south  and  looked  like 
a  speck  on  the  desert.  She  was  getting  more  speed  out 
of  that  old  burro,  too,  than  any  prospector  ever  got 
out  of  one  in  his  life." 

"That  is  a  common  fact,"  replied  a  bystander.  "An 
Indian  seems  to  hypnotize  a  burro  when  he  gets 
astraddle  of  one.  He  controls  a  burro  just  like  a 
negro  manages  a  mule.  I  would  like  to  see  a  race  be 
tween  an  Indian  on  a  burro  and  a  negro  on  a  mule !" 

"Get  your  partners  for  the  midnight  quadrille!" 
shouted  the  floor  manager.  "The  furniture  has  been 
moved  out  of  the  dining-room  and  we  will  have  an  old- 
time  dance." 

"Is  it  that  late?"  asked  Mooring. 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     213 

"Yes,  but   you    can    stay  for  one  set,"  suggested 
Brush. 

"And  Annette  Mooring  still  living!"  exclaimed  the 
banker.  "I  must  avoid  even  the  appearance  of  such 
evil,  much  less  take  a  part  in  it — good  night!" 

Half  a  dozen  girls  gathered  about  Brush  and  offered 
their  services  for  the  dance.  It  was  the  first  time  the 
proprietor  of  the  place  had  ever  been  so  sociable.  He 
had  been  talkative  all  the  evening — ever  since  the  ghost 
scare  was  started.  He  was  feeling  good  over  the  pros 
perity  of  the  new  place,  anyway,  and  had  a  smile  for 
everybody. 

"It  is  the  Boss'  last  night  out  for  awhile/'  said  one 
of  the  girls  with  a  wink.  "He's  going  to  get  married 
next  Sunday,  you  know." 

"Oh,  I'm  going  to  dance  with  the  Boss !"  shouted 
another  girl. 

"No,  you  will  dance  with  me,  won't  you,  Boss?" 
begged  another. 

"You  ought  to  dance  with  me  to  pay  for  waking  me 
up  so  early  yesterday,"  pouted  the  girl  known  as  Pearl. 
"You  know  I  didn't  tell  about  the  early  call  made  by 
you  and  the  squaw  until  after  you  told  it  yourself. 
Some  of  the  girls  would  have  made  a  scandal  about  it ; 
would  have  said  the  Boss  had  made  a  new  mash,  and 
such  things.  I  didn't  shriek,  either,  when  you  gave 
her  that  terrible  kick  that  sent  her  out  on  her  head  in 
the  back  yard,  did  I?" 

"Say,  let  up,  Pearl,  and  the  first  set  is  yours,"  re 
plied  Brush,  with  a  broad  smile. 

"Mine  next,  mine  next!"  came  other  jealous  voices. 


2i4  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

"Oh,  this  is  my  night  off,  girls;  I  will  dance  with 
all  of  you  before  morning!"  promised  Brush. 

"Honor  your  partner,  lady  on  the  left !"  shouted  the 
caller,  and  the  dance  began. 

One  of  the  last  couples  which  had  joined  the  set  was 
a  young  gambler  and  a  girl  who  occupied  the  room 
which  formerly  belonged  to  Amosa.  The  young  man 
had  found  an  old  hat  that  belonged  to  the  Indian  girl 
and  came  out  wearing  it.  The  dancers  began  to  grab 
for  the  hat  as  they  circled  around  the  room  and  soon 
it  had  gone  from  head  to  head.  It  finally  landed  on 
Brush's  head,  and  he  pulled  it  down  close  to  his  ears 
and  wore  it  through  the  set. 

The  drinks  had  been  served  after  the  set  was  over 
and  Brush  was  still  wearing  the  child's  hat. 

"Speech,  speech  by  the  Boss !"  shouted  the  crowd. 

"No,  no,  let  it  be  a  jig!"  called  the  girls. 

Brush  had  gotten  started  and  he  decided  to  make  as 
big  a  fool  as  possible  of  himself  while  he  was  at  it. 
He  pulled  the  child's  little  hat  down  still  tighter  about 
his  ears  and  leaped  to  the  middle  of  the  floor  and  began 
the  dance.  He  knew  nothing  about  the  art,  and  as 
sumed  a  pose  that  was  more  awkward  than  natural. 
He  was  whirling  about  like  a  big  bear  in  the  middle 
of  the  room,  and  the  crowd  was  shouting  and  laughing 
when  there  came  a  crash  of  glass.  Brush  stopped  still 
for  one  second,  reeled  and  fell  headlong  to  the  floor ! 

When  the  crowd  had  recovered  from  the  first  shock 
they  realized  that  something  terrible  had  happened. 
The  still  form  of  Andy  Brush  and  the  little  spot  of 
blood  on  the  bosom  of  his  shirt,  and  the  hole  in  the 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     215 

window  pane  exactly  in  line  with  the  place  where  he 
had  stood,  told  the  story. 

The  bullet  had  come  from  the  direction  of  the  thicket 
near  the  adobe,  and  it  had  entered  his  heart. 

Many  had  not  heard  the  report  of  the  firearm,  but 
others  had.  After  the  crowd  had  gathered  about  the 
body  from  the  other  portions  of  the  building,  and 
learned  what  had  happened,  men  rushed  out  in  every 
direction  in  search  of  the  murderer. 

Within  a  few  minutes  three  of  the  men  returned, 
bringing  a  fourth.  Dick,  the  manager,  was  in  charge, 
and  carried  a  rifle.  His  companions  held  firmly  be 
tween  them  the  prisoner. 

"We  caught  him  red-handed  with  this  gun  in  his 
possession !"  exclaimed  the  manager. 

All  eyes  turned  upon  the  accused. 

"Me  no  savvy,"  he  said. 

It  was  Mokava. 


CHAPTER  XX 
ROBERT  RAY  ARRESTED 

THE  town  of  Mokava  awoke  on  its  first  murder. 
The  man,  Mokava,  was  in  jail.  He  had  pre 
served  a  silence  characteristic  of  the  race  with 
which  he  had  lived.  His  only  statement  was  that  made 
when  he  was  brought  into  the  presence  of  the  body  of 
Brush,  while  it  was  still  warm.  He  had  said  he  did 
not  understand  how  it  had  occurred. 

But  developments  came  with  the  worning.  John 
Mooring  had  been  sent  for  early  and  had  come  away 
without  disturbing  his  family,  to  investigate  the  kill 
ing  of  his  partner.  He  was  shown  the  window-pane 
through  which  the  bullet  had  come;  then  he  examined 
the  ground  in  every  direction  outside  on  a  line  with  the 
course  of  the  deadly  missile.  But  the  place  was  cov 
ered  with  the  tracks  of  those  who  had  gone  over  the 
ground  the  night  before,  which  made  it  impossible  to 
get  a  trace  from  this  source.  He  returned  to  the  room, 
where  a  crowd  was  discussing  the  murder  with  the 
town  marshal.  The  latter  had  the  rifle  which  had  been 
taken  from  Mokava. 

"Why,  that  is  Bob  Ray's  gun !"  exclaimed  Mooring. 

"Are  you  sure  of  it  ?"  asked  the  officer. 

"Positively.  Bob  and  I  had  that  rifle  with  us  on  our 
prospecting  trip.  I  have  carried  it  myself.  Why,  that 
nick  on  the  stock !  I  saw  it  made.  We  woke  one  morn 
ing  and  found  a  rattler  under  our  bed.  Ammunition 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     217 

was  scarce  and  Bob  killed  the  snake  with  the  butt  of 
the  gun.  He  struck  it  against  the  side  of  a  rock  while 
chasing  the  rattler  and  made  that  scar !" 

"Ray  is  not  in  camp,"  volunteered  a  bystander. 

"I  know  it;  he  is  not  expected  to  return  for  some 
time,  either,"  replied  Mooring. 

"That's  Bob's  gun,  all  right,  and  it  came  from  his 
room,"  said  another  of  the  crowd.  "I  remember  it 
now.  I  know  the  gun.  I  was  at  Bob's  room  when  he 
was  leaving;  that  rifle  was  sitting  in  the  corner  of  his 
room  when  we  came  out  and  he  locked  the  door  and 
left." 

"You'd  better  go  and  search  the  place,  officer,"  sug 
gested  Mooring.  "I  know  it's  Ray's  gun ;  a  search  may 
throw  some  light  on  the  murder;  we  can  find  out  at 
least  something  about  when  and  how  the  squaw  man 
got  the  rifle." 

The  marshal  led  the  way  to  the  house  where  Bob 
roomed.  The  crowd  followed.  The  officer  was  led  to 
the  room  and  called  to  the  landlady  to  open  the  door. 

"Knock  on  the  door  and  I  presume  Mr.  Ray  will 
open  for  you,  if  he  don't  mind  being  disturbed  so  early 
in  the  morning,"  said  the  landlady,  visibly  disturbed  by 
this  early  call  at  her  place  in  such  numbers. 

"What,  is  Ray  in  there?"  asked  the  officer  in  sur 
prise. 

"Yes,  what  is  it?"  came  Robert  Ray's  voice  from 
the  inside. 

"Open  the  door !"  demanded  the  marshal. 

The  door  was  instantly  opened  by  Ray,  who  was  still 
in  his  night  clothes. 


2i8  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

"What's  wanted?"  inquired  Ray. 

"Where's  your  rifle?"  asked  the  officer,  looking 
about  the  room. 

"I  let  Mokava  have  it  last  night,"  was  the  reply. 

The  men  gazed  at  each  other  in  amazement.  Robert 
Ray  looked  from  one  to  another  with  anger  rising  in 
his  eyes. 

"Why  did  you  give  the  squaw  man  the  gun?"  asked 
the  marshal. 

"That  is  my  business,"  replied  Ray,  his  anger  now 
increasing.  "Say,  you  fellows,  get  along ;  I've  been  up 
a  great  deal  of  late  and  need  sleep,"  said  Ray,  starting 
to  close  the  door.  "I  shall  take  another  nap  before  I 
dress." 

"But  the  squaw  man  is  in  jail,"  stammered  the 
officer,  "and— 

"What?    What  is  he  in  jail  for?"  interrupted  Ray. 

"Murder — he  killed  Andy  Brush  last  night  and  it 
appears  that  he  used  your  gun;  you  admit  it,  I  be 
lieve?" 

"Yes,  he  had  my  gun ;  but  there  must  be  a  mistake ; 
he  didn't  kill  anyone.  Mooring,  will  you  never  be  sat 
isfied  until  you  get  that  old  man  in  his  grave?"  asked 
Ray. 

"He  ought  to  be  there — and  you  ought  to  have  stayed 
where  your  business  was,"  replied  the  banker.  "Per 
haps  there  would  have  been  one  more  man  living  today 
if  you  had!" 

"There  is  one,  at  least,  living  now,  who  ought  not 
to  be,"  muttered  Ray.  "Wait  till  I  dress,"  he  said 
aloud.  "I  must  see  Mokava." 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     219 

"Not  yet,  Mr.  Ray,"  came  another  voice.  It  was 
that  of  the  prosecuting  attorney,  who  had  just  arrived. 
"Mr.  Marshal,  you  will  take  charge  of  Mr.  Ray  and 
keep  him  and  the  squaw  man  apart  until  we  investi 
gate  further." 

"I  am  your  prisoner ;  I  am  not  worrying  about  that ; 
but  I  want  Mokava  released  at  once.  I  will  go  his 
bail,"  said  Ray. 

"We  will  first  see  if  it  is  a  bailable  case,"  replied  the 
attorney.  "It  does  not  appear  to  belong  to  that  class, 
just  now — it  shows  on  its  face  a  case  of  cold-blooded 
assassination !" 


The  morning  was  growing,  and,  after  glancing  at 
his  watch,  John  Mooring  hurried  to  his  bank  building. 
But  few  people  were  stirring  in  that  part  of  the  town  so 
early  and  he  entered  with  the  stealth  of  a  burglar.  He 
unlocked  the  door  with  a  slow  turn  of  the  bolt  and 
locked  it  behind  him  in  the  same  manner. 

He  unlocked  the  vault  next  and  went  to  the  rear  and 
began  to  remove  a  lot  of  rubbish.  He  uncovered  an 
old  valise  of  large  dimensions.  This  he  brought  for 
ward  and  lined  it  with  wrapping  paper.  Then  he  set  it 
down  about  the  middle  of  the  vault  and  produced  a 
bunch  of  keys.  With  these  he  began  to  open  the  draw 
ers  of  the  depositors  and  transfer  the  contents  to  the 
valise.  One  after  another  contained  large  sums  of 
money,  and  he  smiled  as  he  dropped  it  into  the  recep 
tacle.  Further  toward  the  rear  he  came  to  a  drawer 
marked  "Mooring  &  Brush — Private."  From  this  he 


220  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

took  the  greater  sum.  He  had  locked  the  drawers  be 
hind  him  as  he  proceeded. 

Then  he  stopped  in  front  of  a  drawer  labeled 
"Robert  Ray."  He  smiled  again  as  he  opened  this 
locker.  "So  Robert,  you  started  the  first  trouble 
against  me  in  camp;  you  created  the  first  doubt  of  the 
stability  of  Burro  Hill;  you've  cost  me  a  great  deal; 
you  are  paying  some  of  it  back  now,"  he  murmured, 
as  he  appropriated  the  holdings  of  Ray. 

He  then  took  what  money  the  current  depository 
drawer  contained  and  placed  the  greater  portion  of  the 
gold  in  his  pocket.  The  remainder  of  the  gold  he  put 
in  front  of  silver  coins  of  about  the  same  size  in  the 
cashier's  tray,  where  it  could  be  seen  from  the  outside 
when  the  blinds  were  raised. 

He  then  re-entered  the  vault  and  took  the  valise 
containing  the  money  to  the  rear  again.  He  raked  the 
rubbish  aside  and  placed  the  valise  near  where  he  had 
found  it  and  covered  it  over  carefully,  giving  the  place 
an  appearance,  as  nearly  as  possible,  of  having  never 
been  disturbed.  Then  he  returned  to  his  desk  and 
wrote  a  notice,  as  follows : 

"Closed  Today  on  Account  of  Partner's  Death — 
Open  Tomorrow  as  Usual." 

Mooring  pasted  the  notice  on  the  inside  of  the  front 
door,  raised  the  shades  and  left  the  place  hurriedly  for 
his  home. 

As  soon  as  Mooring  closed  the  door  behind  him  a 
man  began  to  climb  down  from  the  top  of  the  vault  in 
the  bank.  He  had  much  difficulty  in  squeezing  into 
the  narrow  space  between  the  top  of  the  vault  and  the 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     221 

ceiling  of  the  room.  He  was  medium  in  stature,  but 
stout  and  clumsy.  Such  work  was  not  well  adapted  to 
him.  But  Horatio  Stallings  had  done  a  number  of 
things  in  life  that  were  not  adapted  to  him. 

He  was  more  active  when  he  reached  the  floor.  He 
first  unlocked  the  vault  door,  and  then  producing  a 
bunch  of  keys  from  his  pocket  he  began  to  unlock 
drawers.  To  his  surprise  he  found  nothing  left  in  the 
way  of  money.  He  crawled  out  to  the  cashier's  tray 
and  summed  up  only  a  few  hundred  dollars  there.  Then 
he  remembered  hearing  a  noise  in  the  rear  of  the 
vault  while  Mooring  was  there.  He  went  back  and 
began  to  clear  away  the  rubbish  carefully.  He  came 
upon  the  old  valise  and  had  but  little  trouble  in  open 
ing  it. 

Stallings'  eyes  sparkled  when  he  discovered  the  con 
tents  of  the  receptacle.  "Half  a  million  at  least,"  he 
calculated,  while  emptying  the  contents  of  the  grip  on 
the  floor.  He  had  discovered  an  old  gunnysack  among 
the  rubbish.  He  placed  the  money  which  he  had  just 
taken  from  the  valise  in  the  old  sack.  Then  he  raised 
the  old  sack  containing  the  money  and  hefted  it  sev 
eral  times  to  get  its  approximate  weight.  Then  he 
began  to  fill  the  valise  with  tightly  folded  slips  of 
paper,  which  he  first  cut  into  a  shape  similar  to  bills 
of  currency,  after  he  had  folded  large  sheets  together. 
He  kept  this  up  while  he  balanced  the  two  receptacles 
in  either  hand  until  they  appeared  to  weigh  about  the 
same. 

Then  he  returned  to  the  rear  of  the  vault  and  placed 
the  valise  where  he  had  found  it,  covering  it  with  the 


222  THE  TOIvIv  OF  THE  SANDS 


rubbish,  with  as  much  care  as  Mooring  had  used,  to 
make  it  look  as  though  it  had  not  been  disturbed. 

There  was  a  noise  at  the  door  and  Stallings  ap 
proached  the  door  of  the  vault  cautiously  and  looked 
out.  He  saw  men  gathering  about  the  door  of  the 
bank  and  reading  the  sign  which  Mooring  had  posted. 
Stallings  drew  back  quietly  into  the  vault,  closing  the 
door  behind  him  until  it  was  almost  shut. 
***** 

"Wife,  Daughter,  terrible  things  have  happened 
over-night!"  exclaimed  Mooring,  as  he  entered  his 
home.  He  followed  with  a  brief  account  of  the  mur 
der  and  then  continued:  "The  squaw  man  has  been 
in  jail  all  night  and  they  were  taking  Bob  Ray  to  the 
lock-up  when  I  left,  for  complicity  in  the  killing;  it 
was  Bob's  rifle  that  killed  poor  Andy!  Bob  came 
home  on  the  train  last  night,  but  no  one  knew  he  had 
arrived  until  they  found  him  in  his  room  this  morning. 
He  admitted  that  he  had  let  the  squaw  man  have  the 
gun!" 

Mrs.  Annette  Mooring  had  uttered  a  hysterical 
shriek.  It  was  her  nature  to  give  way  to  impulse. 
Ruby  Mooring  betrayed  no  outward  sign  of  distress. 
It  was  her  nature  to  master  her  feelings.  Her  heart 
only  asserted  itself  by  sending  a  crimson  flood  to  her 
face  occasionally  to  take  the  place  of  a  pallor  of 
which  she  was  unconscious.  So  thoroughly  did  she 
master  herself  that  the  casual  observer  would  have 
thought  that  the  startling  story  told  by  her  father  was 
only  of  passing  interest  to  her. 

"Daughter,  I  shall  have  to  look  after  the  funeral  of 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     223 

my  late  partner  and  the  prosecution  of  his  murderers, 
as  well  as  the  business  of  the  Casino  Annex,"  ex 
plained  Mooring  after  his  wife  had  revived.  "I  have 
closed  the  bank  for  the  day  and  put  all  of  the  money 
in  place.  I  placed  the  cashier's  tray  in  view  of  the 
window  so  that  the  depositors  would  not  grow  suspi 
cious  of  the  closing  of  the  bank  for  the  day.  You  had 
better  go  down  and  remain  in  the  bank  as  usual,  but 
do  not  disturb  anything.  Let  any  in  who  might  want 

to  make  deposits,  but  do  not  pay  out  any  money." 
***** 

In  the  meantime  Robert  Ray  had  gone  over  the  de 
tails  of  his  connection  with  the  killing  of  Andy  Brush 
with  his  lawyer.  He  had  also  engaged  the  same  law 
yer  to  defend  Mokava,  and  was  asserting  the  inno 
cence  of  the  settler. 

"I  know  that  you  are  telling  the  truth,  Bob,  and 
that  you  had  no  idea  what  the  squaw  man  was  going 
to  do  with  the  gun  when  you  gave  it  to  him,"  ex 
plained  the  attorney,  "but  it  looks  pretty  hard  for 
him!" 

"I  do  know  what  he  wanted  the  gun  for — he  wanted 
to  take  it  with  him  to  the  desert,  as  he  said  he  did!" 
insisted  Ray. 

"I  understand  you,  but  this  is  private,  Bob — as  your 
lawyer — what  was  Mokava  doing  in  the  rear  of  the 
place  so  soon  after  the  shot  was  fired?  The  rifle,  the 
hard  feeling  between  him  and  Brush — the  fatal  shot — 
the  dead  man — but  we  will  make  the  fight  of  our  lives 
for  him!" 

"I  want  him  bailed  out,"   replied  Ray.     "It  will 


224  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

break  his  innocent  old  heart — the  confinement.  He 
has  never  known  anything  but  the  freedom  of  the 
desert,  a  clear  conscience,  with  the  right  to  go  and 
come  as  he  wished." 

"His  freedom  at  present  is  impossible.  It  is  either 
murder  in  the  first  degree  or  nothing;  not  a  bailable 
case." 

"I  am  outside — we  are  both  charged  with  the  same 
crime?" 

"You  are  Robert  Ray — he  is  the  squaw  man!" 

"What  difference  does  it  make?"  philosophized  Ray. 
"If  the  pitiful,  insignificant,  so-called  'father  of  the 
town/  is  white  and  has  never  lived  with  the  Indians 
— and  has  some  money — why  should  he  be  treated 
better  under  the  ministration  of  the  law  than  the  great, 
noble-hearted,  honest  Mokava,  who  happened  to  be 
cast  among  the  original  settlers  of  this  country,  mar 
ried,  as  God  intended  that  all  men  should  do,  and  had 
children  by  an  Indian  woman,  and  is  living  with  and 
supporting  his  family?" 

A  knock  came  at  the  door  from  the  reception  room. 
The  attorney  rose  and  opened  it. 

"Is  Mr.  Robert  Ray  here?"  came  the  inquiry  from 
the  visitor. 

"Yes,"  replied  Ray,  for  his  attorney,  and  came  for 
ward.  He  had  recognized  the  voice. 

"May  I  speak  with  you,  when  you  are  through?" 
asked  Ruby  Mooring. 

"We  are  through  now,  are  we  not?"  asked  Ray  of 
his  attorney. 

"For  the  day,  I  believe — you  may  call  if  you  hear 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     225 

anything  new,"  replied  the  lawyer,  closing  the  door 
between  them. 

Ray  indicated  a  chair. 

"I  have  not  the  time  to  sit,  thank  you.    I  just — " 

Ruby  Mooring' s  voice  choked  and  Robert  Ray  saw 
that  her  eyes  were  glistening  from  tears.  She  drew 
her  handkerchief  and  stepped  over  near  the  door  which 
opened  on  the  street  and  looked  out.  All  of  the  anger 
and  resentment  left  the  heart  of  Robert  Ray  in  an 
instant.  He  forgot  that  he  was  under  arrest  for  mur 
der;  he  forgot  that  Ruby  Mooring  was  the  fiancee  of 
the  murdered  man;  he  forgot  that  he  had  ever  enter 
tained  a  harsh  feeling  against  any  person  on  earth. 
His  heart  had  melted,  and  he  was  filled  with  charity 
for  all  mankind  and  womankind,  and,  especially,  with 
charity  for  Ruby  Mooring. 

"I  know  it  is  sad,  Miss  Mooring,  and  an  outrageous 
crime.  But  do  not  blame  Mokava.  I  will  be  able  to 
show  that  he  is  innocent — I  know  I  shall.  Mokava  is 
incapable  of  the  thought  of  crime  of  the  smallest  de 
gree,  much  less  cold-blooded  murder!" 

"But  yourself 1  heard  you  were arrested 

in  jail?  I  went  to  the  jail,  but  they  said  you  had 

not  arrived yet !" 

"No,  I  was  permitted  to  go  on  my  own  recognisance, 
as  the  lawyers  call  it.  But  poor  Mokava  will  have  to 
stay  there  until  the  trial — it  is  not  a  bailable  case  for 
him — he  is  a  squaw  man.  But  I  shall  visit  and  com 
fort  him  as  often  as  I  can  get  the  time." 

"So  will  I,"  said  Ruby  Mooring,  sadly. 

"You,  Miss  Mooring!"  exclaimed  Ray,  looking  into 


226  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

her  face.  "You  console  the  man  who  is  charged  with 
killing  your " 

"Oh,  look!"  interrupted  the  girl,  indicating  the 
direction  of  her  father's  bank.  "I  fear  they  will  break 
in !  Will  you  go  with  me,  Mr.  Ray — I'm  afraid  to  go 
alone?" 

Ray  approached  the  door  where  she  was  standing 
and  saw  a  great  crowd  gathered  at  the  bank.  They 
were  talking  excitedly  and  making  threatening  demon 
strations. 

"Certainly  I  will  go  with  you,  if  you  insist,  but 
home  is  the  better  place  for  you !"  replied  Ray. 

"But  Father  told  me  to  go  to  the  bank,  and  I  must 
go.  Besides  a  woman  might  be  able  to  quiet  them." 

They  hurried  to  the  scene,  Robert  Ray  escorting 
Ruby  Mooring. 


CHAPTER  XXI 
"DEATH  VALLEY  OR  DEATH" 

WHEN  Ruby  Mooring  and  Robert  Ray  reached 
the  bank  the  crowd  was  growing  more  boister 
ous.     The  men  were  complaining  that  it  was 
not  a  legal  holiday  and  that  the  death  of  Brush  should 
not  interfere  with  their  rights  to  get  their  money  at 
once.     Miss  Mooring  entered  the  bank  with  her  pass 
key   and    closed   the   door   behind   her.     Robert  Ray 
mingled  with  the  crowd  and  began  discussing  the  mat 
ter  with  the  leaders. 

"I  have  my  money  in  the  bank,"  he  said,  "and  feel 
that  it  will  be  safe  until  tomorrow,  at  least.  Brush 
was  a  partner  in  the  business,  and  it  is  proper  that  the 
bank  should  close  for  one  day  on  account  of  his 
death." 

"Here  you  are  taking  up  for  them  and  you  are 
charged  with  helping  to  kill  Brush !"  chided  one  of  the 
men. 

"I  assure  you  that  I  have  no  love  for  any  man  con 
nected  with  the  bank,  gentlemen,  but  I  see  no  harm  in 
waiting  until  tomorrow,"  argued  Ray.  "If  your  money 
is  not  forthcoming  then  I  will  join  in  such  legal  steps 
as  are  necessary  to  protect  ourselves.." 

"Legal  steps!"  sneered  a  chorus  of  voices.  "If  it 
comes  to  that  we  might  as  well  say  farewell  to  what 
we  have  in  there." 


228  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

"Flunkey  says  today  is  the  day !"  shouted  a  railroad 
man. 

"Where  is  Flunkey?"  asked  Ray. 

"He'll  be  here,  and  when  he  comes  what  he  says 
will  go,"  replied  the  first  speaker. 

At  this  juncture  Mooring  made  his  appearance.  He 
had  been  delayed  by  the  conference  with  his  wife  and 
was  not  aware  of  the  gathering  at  the  bank  until  he 
was  near  the  place. 

"How  is  this — are  you  out  on  bail,  and  did  you  get 
out  for  the  purpose  of  raising  this  trouble?"  Mooring 
asked  Robert  Ray. 

"He's  here  taking  your  part,  you  gump,"  answered 
the  spokesman  from  the  railroad  crowd. 

"It  isn't  time  just  now  to  discuss  murder  cases,  Mr. 
Mooring,"  replied  Ray,  ignoring  the  railroad  man's 
answer.  "You  will  have  to  satisfy  these  men  or  there 
will  be  serious  trouble." 

"Yes,  get  inside  that  bank  and  open  up  and  hand 
us  out  our  cash !"  demanded  a  big  fellow. 

"Why,  gentlemen,  be  patient,  and  I  will  explain," 
smiled  Mooring,  appearing  as  unconcerned  as  possible. 

"We  don't  care  for  explanations,"  replied  one  of 
the  leaders.  "Just  open  the  bank  and  continue  to  do 
business  until  we  can  get  what  we  have  in  there — then 
you  can  close  and  do  whatever  you  please.  So  hurry 
up  and  open  up,  if  you  don't  want  a  rifle  bullet  where 
Brush  got  his !" 

Mooring  had  opened  the  door  partially  and  was 
about  to  speak  again,  when  he  saw  the  men  preparing 
for  a  rush.  He  raised  his  hand  as  if  he  were  about  to 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     229 

say  something,  then  jumped  inside,  closed  the  door 
and  locked  it. 

"Oh,  we'll  get  in — wait  until  the  dynamite  arrives!" 
shouted  one  of  the  men. 

The  remainder  of  the  forenoon  passed  without  excit 
ing  incident.  The  men  were  waiting  for  something, 
doubtless,  and  remained  about  the  place  on  watch  until 
they  should  be  ready  for  final  action.  They  came  and 
went  as  new  members  arrived,  so  that  the  crowd  about 
the  bank  was  not  materially  reduced.  They  had 
reached  a  silence  that  worried  Mooring. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  finally  shouted  out  of  a  window, 
"have  you  no  respect  for  the  dead?  Go  away  until 
tomorrow  morning  and  the  bank  will  open  its  doors 
as  usual." 

"Flunkey  said  not  to  let  this  day  pass  without  get 
ting  our  money,"  replied  the  railroad  man. 

"Where  is  this  man  Flunkey?"  asked  Mooring. 

"Never  mind,  he'll  be  here,"  was  the  reply.  "The 
fireworks  will  begin  then.  He's  coming  loaded.  You'd 
better  get  your  daughter  out  of  there.  We  don't  want 
to  hurt  any  women." 

Robert  Ray  again  begged  the  men  to  go  away.  He 
told  them  that  he  had  all  of  his  money  there  and  that 
he  was  not  uneasy.  He  approached  the  window  near 
where  Ruby  Mooring  was  seated  and  begged  her  to 
leave. 

"A  daughter 'would  not  leave  the  side  of  her  father 
when  he  is  in  danger,"  was  her  reply. 

"We  want  either  you  or  the  money,  Mr.  Mooring," 
shouted  one  of  the  men,  "though  we  much  prefer  the 


23o  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

money.  We  will  use  it  more  gently  than  we  would 
you,  if  you  will  kindly  hand  it  out." 

The  monotonous  watch  lasted  throughout  the  day. 
Night  had  set  in  and  the  full  moon  rose  across  the 
desert,  lighting  up  the  men's  faces  almost  as  bright  as 
day.  The  night  train  had  just  come  in  and  the  men 
were  constantly  looking  in  the  direction  of  the  depot. 

"Flunkey  ought  to  be  here;  that  train  has  been  in 
some  time — did  any  one  go  to  meet  the  train?"  asked 
one  of  the  men. 

While  they  were  still  looking  up  the  street  toward 
the  station  a  short,  round  figure  came  across  from 
another  direction.  His  hair  was  long  and  uncombed, 
his  face  wore  a  stubby,  irregular  beard.  His  clothes 
were  soiled  and  slick  with  wear.  He  wore  a  slouch  hat 
and  carried  an  old  valise  in  his  hand. 

"There  he  comes  now — that's  Flunkey!"  shouted 
the  railroad  men. 

"What  does  he  say,  boys?"  asked  the  tramp-looking 
fellow  in  a  friendly  voice. 

"Says  if  we  will  wait  until  tomorrow  he'll  pay  us 
off,"  replied  the  spokesman  for  the  railroad  men. 

"Well,  'spose  we  give  him  the  time,  but  take  no 
chances?"  suggested  Flunkey.  "I  have  the  stuff  here 
that  will  get  action  on  the*  place,  but  there  can  be  no 
harm  in  waiting,  if  we  see  that  neither  he  nor  any  of 
the  money  gets  away.  I  should  have  come  sooner,  but 
couldn't  arrange  it.  It's  getting  late  ribV  and  we  will 
have  everybody  here  by  morning.  Let's  have  a  fair 
division  of  the  spoils,  whatever  they  are.  Let's  take 
no  chances,  as  I  said  before,  men;  let's  divide  up  into 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     231 

watches.  There  is  no  need  of  a  crowd  staying  around 
here  all  night.  I  know  where  the  rear  door  is.  I'll 
take  first  watch  there.  Who  will  relieve  me  at  mid 
night?" 

This  man  of  brains  had  controlled  the  gang  of  rail 
road  workers  when  the  road  was  being  built,  even  in 
his  drunken  condition.  The  head  men  in  the  construc 
tion  work  had  come  to  him  for  advice.  Now  the  de 
positors  of  Mooring' s  bank  followed  his  instructions 
implicitly. 

The  crowd  had  soon  disappeared  except  a  few  men 
left  at  the  windows  and  doors.  Flunkey  went  to  the 
rear  door,  after  selecting  a  man  to  succeed  him  two 
hours  later,  out  of  the  dozen  that  had  volunteered. 

"So  long  as  we  keep  him  bottled  up  in  there  we  are 
in  no  worse  position  than  when  we  came  this  morn 
ing,"  agreed  the  men. 

Mooring  had  listened  to  the  arrangements  intently. 
Other  men  placed  in  his  position  might  have  attempted 
to  escape  by  violence.  The  sudden  opening  of  the  door 
with  a  revolver  in  hand  and  its  use  either  as  a  threat 
or  with  proper  aim  might  have  secured  his  freedom. 
But  he  was  not  a  man  of  moral  courage.  He  had 
never  faced  men.  He  had  won  his  victories,  such  as 
they  were,  by  subterfuge. 

He  had  extinguished  the  lights  in  the  main  room 
and  seated  himself  at  the  desk  in  his  office.  There  was 
nothing  to  do  but  wait.  Ruby  Mooring  was  sitting  at 
the  end  of  the  desk  watching  her  father's  face.  She 
felt  that  her  presence  had  been  of  some  benefit  during 


232  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

the  day,  and  that  she  might  comfort  him  in  his  loneli 
ness  during  the  long  night  before  them. 

A  light  footstep  was  heard  inside  the  bank.  The 
two  were  looking  at  each  other  in  amazement,  when 
the  tramp-looking  man  opened  the  door  of  the  office 
and  entered  cautiously.  Before  the  girl  or  her  father 
had  recovered  from  the  surprise  the  man  spoke: 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr.  Mooring!  I  can  imagine 
your  surprise  at  my  coming.  You  may  think  it  strange 
that  I  should  come  in  this  garb,  but  you  cannot  com 
plain,  since  I  come  to  save  your  life." 

Then  he  removed  the  old  slouch  hat  and  with  it  a 
wig.  He  drew  from  his  face  a  false  beard. 

"Horatio  Stallings!"  exclaimed  Mooring  with  a 
start.  "Daughter,  this  is  Mr.  Stallings — Mr.  Stallings, 
meet  my  daughter,  Miss  Ruby !" 

"We've  no  time  to  lose,"  said  Stallings,  with  a 
tremor  in  his  voice.  "The  man  who  is  to  relieve  me 
on  guard  at  the  door  is  likely  to  come  ahead  of  time. 
Others  are  likely  to  visit  me  at  any  moment.  I  know, 
Mr.  Mooring,  you  have  not  the  money  to  pay  these 
people,  and  you  must  get  away  tonight;  within  the 

next  few  minutes.  Miss — er er — the  young  lady 

had  better  go  home  now.  You,  sir,  will  soon  be  on 
your  way  to  freedom  from  these  people,  and  I  will 
hold  the  fort  until  morning." 

"Daughter,  will  you  kindly  bring  me  that  package 
from  the  vault  before  you  go?"  said  Mooring  to  his 
daughter. 

"Yes,  Father,"  and  the  girl  entered  the  vault  and 
turned  on  the  light. 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     233 

"It's  a  private  matter — I  always  take  it  with  me 
when  I  go  away  from  home,"  explained  the  banker  to 
the  visitor. 

Ruby  returned  in  a  few  seconds  with  the  package 
and  gave  it  to  her  father.  It  was  the  package  which 
Robert  Ray  had  picked  up  and  returned  to  her  when 
she  dropped  it  at  the  ferry-house  in  Oakland. 

'Thank  you,  Daughter — you  may  go  now — you 
understand  about  the  package  ?" 

"Yes,  Father — but  there  is  no  danger  ahead,  is 
there?" 

"Oh,  no !"  replied  the  banker  smiling.  "The  danger 
is  all  past  now.  Mr.  Stallings  will  get  me  away  safely, 
and — tell  your  mother  she  will  hear  from  me  in  a  few 
days.  She  will  understand!" 

Horatio  Stallings  showed  impatience.  He  reminded 
Mooring  that  the  time  was  limited  and  drew  Ruby 
Mooring  toward  the  rear  door,  after  she  had  kissed 
the  banker  farewell.  "Just  a  short  time  and  all  will 
be  well,  this  time,"  Mooring  had  whispered  consol 
ingly  to  the  girl. 

A  light  shudder  ran  over  Ruby's  body  as  Stallings 
opened  the  door  and  disclosed  the  darkness  outside. 
The  nearest  street  lights  had  been  turned  out. 

"Be  not  afraid,"  said  Stallings  assuringly.  "A  girl 
like  you  will  find  none  but  friends  even  in  the  darkest 
alleys  of  an  uncivilized  mining  camp!" 

"Oh,  I  shall  not  be  afraid  when  I  once  get  started — 
I  shall  take  the  back  route  home,  and  hurry  at  that!" 

"Get  down  a  little  early  tomorrow  morning,"  in 
structed  Stallings  in  a  whisper,  when  he  saw  that  the 


234  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

coast  was  clear  for  Ruby.  "I  will  need  you.  You  may 
depend  upon  me — you  can  trust  me!"  he  concluded  as 
the  girl  stepped  out  into  the  night. 

As  soon  as  Stallings  had  closed  the  door  behind 
Ruby  he  removed  the  old  suit  of  clothes  and  donned 
a  neat  business  suit,  which  he  took  from  the  old  valise. 
Then  he  appeared  before  Mooring  with  the  ragged 
clothes  in  his  hands,  and  said  in  a  commanding  tone : 

"Now,  Mr.  Mooring,  get  this  suit  of  the  late 
Flunkey  on  as  quickly  as  possible.  I  am  going  to  let 
you  escape.  I  came  all  the  way  back  to  aid  you  in  this 
escape;  you've  not  much  time  left — hurry!" 

Mooring  was  so  deeply  interested  in  the  thought  of 
escaping  that  he  paid  but  little  attention  to  what  Stall- 
ings  was  saying.  The  men  were  not  very  different  in 
height,  but  the  banker  was  the  thinner.  When  he  had 
finished  the  change  of  clothing  the  banker  looked  at 
Stallings  for  approval. 

"You  will  need  a  little  padding  at  first  in  the  stom 
ach  of  your  trousers,"  smiled  Stallings,  "and  a  little 
more  later  on,"  he  continued  in  a  lower,  but  more 
gloating  tone. 

Mooring' s  enthusiasm  now  made  him  deaf  to  every 
thing  except  words  that  bore  on  his  immediate  de 
parture.  It  all  seemed  so  easy  now.  He  had  antici 
pated  greater  difficulty — thought  maybe  he  would  have 
to  borrow  a  portion  of  Ruby's  clothing  the  earlier  part 
of  the  night.  But  now  he  would  be  able  to  walk  out 
with  the  old  valise  and  its  precious  contents  practically 
without  a  chance  of  detection ! 

"And  you  are  Flunkey  and  Stallings,  both  and  the 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     235 

same,  an'd  have  been  all  the  time,"  commented  the 
banker,  wondering  why  such  a  change  had  come  over 
the  heart  of  the  man  who  had  sent  the  mischief-mak 
ing  letters,  and  who  Annette  Mooring  had  led  him  to 
suspect,  looking  at  him  studiously. 

"Yes,  and  more,  but  get  ready  to  be  on  your  way," 
replied  Stallings,  in  a  tone  of  impatience. 

The  false  beard  and  hair  were  now  in  place  under 
the  skillful  hands  of  Stallings  and  the  banker  was  a 
fair  counterpart  of  the  late  Flunkey. 

"You  may  have  this  valise  in  which  to  take  along 
anything  you  may  need,"  suggested  Stallings,  with 
an  inward  smile. 

"No,  thanks,"  hurried  Mooring.  "I  have  an  old 
grip  in  the  vault  that  will  look  enough  like  yours  to 
aid  me  in  passing  the  guard;  besides,  it  contains  some 
old  keep-sakes  which  I  wish  to  take  along." 

Stallings  followed  him  into  the  vault  and  saw  him 
dig  the  valise  from  the  rubbish.  When  they  had  re 
turned  to  the  office  and  were  under  the  light,  Stallings 
tapped  Mooring  on  the  shoulder  and  said : 

"Set  the  valise  down  for  a  second;  take  these  and 
put  them  in  your  pocket — you  will  need  them !"  offer 
ing  the  banker  a  bottle  of  water  and  some  sandwiches. 

"Oh,  I  shall  not  need  them,"  assured  Mooring,  hold 
ing  on  to  the  old  valise  tightly.  "I  shall  catch  a 
freight  train  in  time  to  get  breakfast  down  the  line!" 

"No  you  won't!"  rasped  Stallings,  his  pent  up  tem 
per  now  putting  to  test  every  effort  to  suppress  it. 
"You  are  going  to  strike  out  on  foot  across  the  desert 
toward  Death  Valley  as  soon  as  you  get  out  of  this 


236  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

building,  and  are  relieved  by  the  next  guard.  Death 
Valley,  only,  lies  between  you  and  life.  It  is  Death 
Valley  or  death  for  you!  It  will  be  a  hard  fight,  but 
by  keeping  a  straight  course  a  little  to  the  west  of 
south  you  may  reach  civilization  on  the  other  side." 

"Why  this  extreme  precaution?"  asked  Mooring, 
now  looking  angrily  at  his  companion. 

"The  railroad  and  every  other  avenue  of  escape  is 
guarded,"  replied  Stallings.  "There  will  not  be  any 
more  trains  out  tonight — business  no  longer  justifies 
night  trains,  except  the  regular  passenger,  and  you 
know  that  is  gone.  They  would  kill  you,  even  if  you 
attempted  to  follow  the  tracks.  There  is  But  one  way 
— it  is  the  desert  and  the  Death  Valley  route!" 

"Since  you  have  arranged  the  trap  in  which  I  am 
placed,  and  also  the  manner  in  which  I  am  to  escape 
from  it,  may  I  ask  why  you  have  put  yourself  to  all 
of  this  trouble?"  asked  the  banker,  with  a  tremor  of 
suspicion,  but  with  an  attempt  not  to  show  it. 

"That  is  what  I  have  been  waiting  for !"  rasped  the 
other  victoriously.  "Did  you  ever,  in  your  hellish 
career,  hear  of " 

The  name  was  not  spoken.  It  was  caught  by  Moor 
ing  while  it  was  forming  on  the  lips  of  Stallings.  The 
latter  stopped  and  placed  his  face  close  to  that  of  the 
banker.  Mooring  staggered  as  if  he  had  been  shot. 
Stallings  caught  him  by  the  arm  with  a  grasp  that 
almost  sent  his  fingers  to  the  bone.  He  was  just  in 
time  to  keep  Mooring  from  falling  to  the  floor. 
Although  they  were  about  the  same  weight  and  age 
Mooring  cowered  like  a  pygmy  in  the  grasp  of  a  giant. 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     237 

His  eyes  turned  toward  the  floor  and  his  body  sagged 
from  the  hold  of  Stallings  like  that  of  a  felon  from  the 
hangman's  noose. 

"It  has  been  a  long  and  tedious  hunt,"  growled 
Stallings.  "It  was  your  fault.  I  blame  the  man.  He 
is  the  stronger.  No  woman  ever  did  a  serious  wrong 
that  a  man  was  not  at  the  bottom  of  it!  You  have 
given  me  a  long  trail — let's  see — seventeen  years  or 
better.  But  you  changed  your  name — how  many 
names  have  you,  anyway?  If  I  hadn't  run  across  a 
silly  picture  that  you  had  taken  together  on  the  beach 
I  should  never  have  known  you,  since  I  had  never  had 
the  pleasure  of  seeing  you  until  we  met  at  the  railroad 
camp — you  a  banker,  I  a  tramp ! 

"I  had  some  trouble  in  distinguishing  you  from  the 
squaw  man.  The  old  picture  I  had  lost,  but  I  knew 
that  one  of  you  was  the  man — the  brute — his  image 
had  been  imprinted  upon  my  soul ! 

"I  had  intended  to  kill  you.  You  deserve  it.  Had 
I  met  you  seventeen,  ten — five  years  ago,  I  should 
have  strangled  you  like  a  dog!  But  now  I  am  going 
to  give  you  a  chance.  You  know  what  it  is.  Go  out 
side  the  rear  door  and  stand  there  until  my  relief 
comes.  He  is  due  very  soon.  When  he  comes  say, 
'Goodnight !'  in  a  low  voice  and  walk  rapidly  away  so 
that  he  may  not  have  time  to  try  to  engage  you  in 
conversation.  And,  remember,  if  they  detect  you  they 
will  kill  you !  They  have  been  paid  to  do  it — with  your 
own  money;  or,  rather,  with  money  that  you  have 
fleeced  from  others." 

John  Mooring  was  as  if  mesmerized.    This  was  the 


238  THE  TOU,  OF  THE  SANDS 

hour  that  he  had  been  dreading  for  years.  He  had 
been  haunted  with  the  belief  that  he  would  some  day, 
somewhere,  meet  this  man.  The  dread  had  become  a 
disease.  A  hundred  times  he  had  been  attacked  by  a 
disagreeable  tremor  upon  meeting  strangers,  and  ex 
plained  it  by  stating  that  he  was  subject  to  attacks  of 
vertigo  or  other  ailment. 

But  he  felt  the  weight  of  something  in  his  right 
hand.  He  turned  his  half-closed  eyes  and  saw  the  old 
valise  still  in  his  grasp.  He  remembered  the  packs  of 
bills  that  he  had  placed  in  it  the  early  part  of  the  day. 
The  thought  of  the  victory  that  he  was  winning  in  his 
latest  game — a  cool  half-million — started  his  blood 
again  to  tingling,  even  in  the  grasp  and  under  the  eye 
of  the  man  whom  he  had  dreaded  for  nearly  a  score  of 
years. 

He  cast  a  cowardly  glance  into  the  eyes  of  Stallings. 
The  latter  raised  his  hand  and  pointed  to  the  rear  door. 
John  Mooring  slunk  out  into  the  darkness,  clutching 
the  big  valise. 


CHAPTER  XXII 
SHADOWED  BY  A  MAN  WITH  A  GUN 

WHEN  Ruby  Mooring  first  stepped  from  the 
rear  door  of  her  father's  bank  the  blackness  of 
the  night  blinded  her.     She  stood  for  a  mo 
ment  to  get  her  bearings,  and  as  her  eyes  were  becom 
ing  accustomed  to  the  new  shade  of  dark  she  saw  a 
shadow,  even  darker  than  the  night,  pass  behind  the 
corner  of  the  rear  of  a  building  that  extended  nearer 
the  alley  than  the  others. 

Stallings  had  said  that  she  need  not  fear,  clothing 
the  assurance  with  a  compliment,  but  now  that  she 
was  thrown  upon  her  own  resources  she  decided  to.  act 
upon  her  own  judgment.  Stallings'  theory  that  a  pure 
woman  was  possibly  safer  in  the  darkness  and  alleys 
of  a  mining  camp  than  she  might  be  in  a  city  of  better 
civilization,  probably  was  true,  but  angry  depositors 
of  the  bank  of  Ruby  Mooring's  father  were  on  watch 
that  night  and  they  might  suspect  the  banker's  daugh 
ter,  or  even  suspect  that  the  banker  was  making  his 
escape  in  his  daughter's  clothes.  In  fact,  he  had 
dropped  a  hint  that  led  the  daughter  to  believe  that  he 
might  adopt  such  a  ruse,  before  the  arrival  of  Stallings. 
The  movement  of  the  shadow  had  convinced  her  that 
it  was  there  in  connection  with  the  run  on  the  bank,  and 
that  it  was  still  watching  her.  Instead  of  going  up 
the  alley  as  she  had  intended,  which  would  require  her 
to  pass  the  place  where  the  shadow  was  now  doubtless 


240  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

concealed,  she  decided  upon  another  course.  The 
street  to  the  north  was  not  so  well  lighted  usually  as 
the  one  to  the  south,  and  since  darkness  appeared  to 
be  the  game  of  her  "shadow"  she  would  seek  that  side 
of  the  town.  Besides,  she  knew  of  a  vacant  block  over 
on  the  north  street  where  all  kinds  of  debris  had  been 
piled  by  builders  and  merchants.  It  was  a  sort  of 
dumping  ground  for  material  that  was  too  valuable  to 
destroy  and  too  bulky  for  thieves  to  carry  away.  If 
she  could  reach  this  place  she  fancied  that  it  would  be 
easy  to  dodge  through  the  various  trails  between  the 
walls  of  stuff  and  lose  any  one  that  might  be  trying  to 
trail  or  attack  her.  Her  home  was  a  few  yards  only 
from  the  far  corner  of  this  ugly  block. 

Looking  and  failing  to  see  the  object  of  her  fear  she 
ran  across  the  alley  like  a  flash  and  then  hugged  the 
walls  of  the  rear  of  the  buildings  extending  to  the 
alley.  She  came  to  a  narrow  place  between  two  of  the 
buildings  as  she  felt  her  way  along,  and  turned  into 
the  narrow  passage.  She  edged  her  way  through  as 
fast  as  possible  and  reached  the  front  on  North  street. 

She  looked  out  from  behind  the  cover  of  the  build 
ings  and  surveyed  the  street  up  and  down  and  across 
to  the  vacant  block.  It  was  late  and  not  a  living  thing 
was  in  sight.  A  small  light  flickered  at  the  farther 
corner  from  a  pole  which  made  the  remainder  of  the 
view  appear  even  darker. 

With  a  blundering  rush  that  one  often  makes  when 
safety  lies  more  certainly  in  stealth,  she  ran  as  fast  as 
she  could  across  the  street.  When  she  reached  the 
sidewalk  and  was  about  to  enter  a  trail  leading  through 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     241 

the  piles  of  stuff  on  the  vacant  block,  she  again  looked 
about  in  every  direction  to  see  if  she  had  been  discov 
ered.  To  her  dismay  she  again  saw  the  shadower. 
He  had  stopped  near  the  corner  beyond  the  small  street 
light.  In  the  brief  glance  that  she  gave  it  she  discov 
ered  that  it  was  a  man  and  that  he  carried  a  gun.  The 
stock  and  muzzle,  were  plainly  outlined  by  a  flash  from 
the  light. 

Flight  among  the  rubbish  on  the  vacant  block  was 
the  only  thing  left,  unless  she  should  boldly  turn,  walk 
up  the  street  and  face  this  man,  who  was  plainly  trying 
to  intercept  her.  Ruby  Mooring  had  the  daring  of 
most  women  when  driven  to  a  corner.  She  decided 
that  if  captured,  caught  or  shot,  it  should  be  in  the 
plan  of  escape  that  she  had  first  adopted,  and  she 
darted  into  the  trail  across  lots.  She  ran  into  all  kinds 
of  impediments.  First,  a  protruding  plank  would 
almost  trip  her,  then  a  block  of  wood  or  other  obstacle 
buried  in  the  ground,  with  just  enough  projection  to 
intercept  her  foot,  would  interfere.  Once  she  ran  into 
a  blind  alley  made  by  the  irregular  piling  of  some 
boxes  and  was  delayed  in  getting  her  bearings  again. 

When  she  finally  came  to  the  edge  of  the  block  on 
the  other  side,  she  again  looked  out  from  behind  cover 
to  ascertain  if  her  shadower  had  anticipated  her  point 
of  exit  from  the  complicated  place.  She  hoped  that  he 
might  have  attempted  to  follow  her,  for  in  this  event 
lay  the  chance  that  he  would  get  entangled  as  she  had, 
and  come  out  at  some  point  on  another  street.  Any 
way,  the  coast  appeared  to  be  clear,  and  she  again 
started  on  the  run,  almost  out  of  breath  now. 


242  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

"Hands  up,  and  don't  scream,  you  little !" 

came  a  voice  from  her  right. 

She  recognized  the  voice  and  ran  the  faster.  The 
man  followed  and  caught  her. 

"You  have  given  me  the  run  of  my  life,"  said  Robert 
Ray. 

"And  you  have  given  me  the  fright  of  my  life !"  ex 
claimed  Ruby  Mooring,  still  trembling. 

"Why  did  you  not  stop  long  enough  to  ascertain 
whether  I  was  a  friend  or  foe?"  he  asked. 

"I  didn't  expect  friends  to  be  hiding  in  the  dark  like 
a — like  a  highwayman,"  she  replied. 

"Do  I  look  like  a  robber?"  he  asked. 

"What  are  you  doing  with  that  rifle?" 

"I  brought  it  out  to  use,  if  necessary,"  replied  Ray. 

"But  you  are  already  in  trouble — is  that  the  gun 
with  which  Mr.  Brush  was  killed?" 

"I  should  judge  not — I  bought  it  new  early  this 
evening,  and  it  is  supposed  to  have  never  been  used 
before.  They  confiscated  my  old  rifle  for  evidence  at 
the  trial  of  Mokava  and  I.  The  lawyers  doubtless 
already  have  it  marked  Exhibit  A,  and  probably  will 
keep  it  for  a  spell." 

"But  what  are  you  doing  with  the  new  one — is  it 
loaded?" 

"Yes,  it  has  a  peck  of  cartridges,  more  or  less,  in 
the  magazine,  and  I  have  already  told  you  that  I 
brought  it  along  to  use,  if  necessary." 

"Why  were  you  out  with  it?" 

"Lying  in  wait  for  you,"  he  smiled. 

"Well,  you've  found  me?" 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     243 

"Yes,  and  I  shall  see  you  home,"  he  said,  defiantly. 

"You  didn't  need  an  arsenal  to  hold  up  and  escort 
a  poor  defenseless  girl  to  her  home,"  she  said  in  an 
injured  tone. 

"No,  but  you  do  not  realize  how  serious  matters 
have  been.  I  have  been  in  touch  with  the  outside  since 
we  separated  this  morning.  There  is  a  vicious  element 
among  those  men.  They  are  not  all  depositors  of  the 
bank — that  is,  the  most  vicious  are  not.  This  class 
always  join  any  kind  of  a  lawless  move,  expecting  to 
get  something  out  of  it  in  some  way,  either  in  the 
form  of  loot  or  the  gratification  of  criminal  lust." 

"Were  you  there  to  aid  Father?" 

"No — not  any  further  than  the  law  demanded." 

"I  do  not  understand  you,  Mr.  Ray." 

"I  was  there  in  your  father's  interest  so  far  as  to  see 
that  men  did  not  take  anything  that  did  not  belong  to 
them  or  commit  a  crime.  But  to  come  straight  to  the 
truth,"  he  continued,  with  a  tremor  in  his  voice,  "I 
was  there  to  look  out  for  you !  You  insisted  on  stay 
ing  in  the  place.  If  those  men  had  ever  started,  noth 
ing  but  bullets  would  have  stopped  them.  I  didn't 
know  whether  they  intended  to  blow  up  the  place  or 
not,  but  I  meant  to  put  a  bullet  through  the  man  or 
men  who  attempted  it  while  you  were  in  there!  And, 
if  they  had  taken  the  course  of  storming  the  place  and 
had  broken  in,  I  should  have  been  equally  active  with 
this  rifle — if  they  had  dared  to  put  their  hands  on 
you!  You  do  not  realize  what  a  class  of  men  were 
gathered  there.  Men  in  mining  camps  are  usually 
considerate  of  women,  but  there  are  a  lot  here  who  do 


244  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

not  belong  here — and  when  you  get  any  class  started 
into  lawlessness  they  develop  into  beasts  for  the  time." 

"Why  this  interest  in  me?"  she  asked  coldly,  look 
ing  up  at  him. 

"You — you  needed  protection,"  was  the  stammering 
reply. 

"Have  you  turned  knight  of  old  that  you  should  go 
out  into  the  world  protecting  women  indiscrimi 
nately?" 

"Indiscriminately?"  repeated  Ray. 

"Yes,  there  is  but  one  woman  whom  you  should  go 
out  of  your  way  to  protect !" 

"I  do  not  understand." 

"Nevada — your  fiancee,"  said  Ruby,  remindfully. 

"Do  you  believe  everything  you  see  in  the  news 
papers?"  he  asked. 

"You  appear  to  believe  everything  you  read!"  she 
said  pettishly. 

"What  dp  you  mean?"  asked  Ray. 

"That  you  read  that  rubbish  about  my  engagement 
and  believed  it !"  she  said  in  an  indignant  tone. 

"Was  it  not  true?" 

"Had  you  no  more  confidence  in  me  than  that?  Did 
you  think  I  was  a  fool,  a  puppet  of  a  woman  that 
would  think  of  marrying  such  a  character — pardon 
my  reflection  upon  the  dead — that  would  permit  my 
parents  to  barter  and  sell  me  to  whom  they  pleased?" 

"I — I— I— couldn't  understand  it,"  faltered  Ray, 
"except  under  that  old  saying,  'That  one  can  never 
tell  what  a  woman  may  do !' ' 

"And  what  about  the  man?"  returned  Ruby.    "Ne- 


THE  TOU,  OF  THE  SANDS  245 

vada  is  pure  and  good  and  worthy  of  you  or  any  other 
man — but  who  would  have  thought  that  you — you,  tc 
whom  her  family  is  under  such  deep  obligations,  would 
take  advantage  of  this  friendship  to  undermine  her  real 
lover — think  of  poor  Lansing!" 

"It's  all  a  malicious  lie,  Ruby — Miss  Mooring — I 
mean  that  stuff  in  the  paper  about  my  having  any 
thought  concerning  Nevada,  except  that  of  a  sympa 
thetic  friend!"  emphasized  Ray,  with  a  movement  of 
his  rifle  as  if  he  would  like  just  then  to  take  a  shot  at 
an  editor. 

"I  know  it — knew  it  all  of  the  time,"  smiled  Ruby. 
"It  was  a  part  of  the  scheme  framed  up  by  poor  Father 
and  Mr.  Brush — and,  joined  in  by  poor,  indiscreet 
Mother — to  get  me  to  yield  to  an  engagement  which 
was  announced  before  I  was  consulted.  There  was 
nothing  for  me  to  do  but  to  keep  silent  and  await  your 
return,  as  Mokava  did." 

They  were  approaching  the  Mooring  home.  Ruby 
had  taken  Ray's  arm  shortly  after  they  met  and  they 
had  proceeded  slowly  while  they  explained  matters. 
But  Ray  now  stopped  suddenly  and  looked  down  into 
Ruby's  face.  He  could  see  flashes  of  happiness  in 
her  dark  eyes  even  in  the  blackness  of  the  night. 

"Miss  Mooring — Ruby!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  am  a 
big  gawk  of  a  fool,  as  I  have  been  since  I  first  saw 
you  in  San  Francisco  that  night!  Will  you " 

"Wait  Robert — Mr.  Ray!"  she  interrupted,  getting 
closer  to  the  arm  she  held. 

"Call  me  Bob;  cut  out  this  formality,"  continued 
Ray.  "Ruby,  I  am  going  straight  to  the  point  of  pro- 


246  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

posing  to  you  right  now — keep  quiet  until  I  get 
through !  I  won't  take  chances  on  another  minute's 
delay!  I  don't  know  how  matters  are  going  to  come 
out — I  mean  from  a  business  standpoint;  there  is 
nothing  in  that  charge  connecting  Mokava  and  me 
with  the  Brush  killing.  I  will  not  burden  you  with 
the  details  of  our  defense,  but  the  evidence  is  clear 
and  will  show  us  to  be  as  innocent  of  the  crime  as 
is  your  dear  little  self. 

"What  money  I  have  is  in  your  father's  bank.  I 
intended  already  to  save  his  name  on  your  account.  I 
will  see  that  every  cent  of  it  goes  to  pay  others,  if 
necessary.  And,  if  the  worst  comes  to  the  worst, 
Ruby,  I  can  support  you  anywhere.  I  never  seriously 
thought  of  marrying  until  I — oh,  well  it  sounds  like 
book  stuff,  but  it  isn't !  I  want  you  to  tell  me  now — 
right  now — that  you  will  take  a  chance  with  me  as 
my  wife?" 

"Would  you  marry  the  daughter  of  the  man  who 
has  done  so  much  against  you — even  charged  you  with 
murder?" 

"I  thought  I  had  told  you  that  I  do  not  hold  the 
offspring  responsible  for  the  acts  of  the  ancestor,"  he 
replied. 

"Suppose  my  father  should  become  a  fugitive  to 
night  ;  that  when  the  hour  for  the  opening  of  the  bank 
tomorrow  morning  arrives  it  should  be  announced  that 
he  has  absconded;  that  still  worse,  he  had  taken  with 
him  the  funds  of  his  customers,  including  yours — 
money  that  you  entrusted  to  his  care  at  his  request 
while  you  were  a  guest  at  his  house;  would  not  all  of 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     247 

this  come  up  sometime  in  your  mind  when  you  looked 
upon  his  daughter  as  your  wife?" 

"It  is  you — yourself,  that  I  love,  and  shall  always 
love  and  respect,  without  regard  to  your  father  or  any 
one  else;  it  matters  not  whether  your  father  should 
prove  to  be  a  thief  or  just  as  honest  as  Stallings  or 
Mokava — that  has  nothing  to  do  with  my  love!" 

"Suppose  Mokava  should  prove  a  murderer  and  Mr. 
Stallings  prove  a  scoundrel?" 

"Impossible — but  what's  that  to  do  with  it?"  he 
asked. 

"You  mentioned  them  just  now  as  the  basis  of  the 
kind  of  men  in  whom  you  believed,  in  connection 
with  me." 

"That  was  because  they  happened  to  enter  my 
mind,"  said  Ray.  "Eliminate  everybody  then;  make 
this  a  matter  just  between  you  and 

"But  wait  a  minute,  Mr.  Ray!"  he  continued,  in 
terrupting  his  train  of  conversation.  "Miss  Ruby,  you 
keep  trying  to  find  skeletons  in  your  family  closet  with 
which  to  frighten  me.  I  am  reminded  that  I  should 
open  my  own  closet  door!  To  begin,  I  do  not  know 
if  my  own  father  is  dead  or  living.  I  never  saw  him ! 
He  took  my  mother  to  a  maternity  hospital  just  before 
I  was  born,  and  Mother  never  left  her  bed  after  I 
came  into  the  world!  I  was  told  after  I  got  old 
enough  to  know  that  my  father  did  not  even  attend 
Mother's  funeral.  He  had  disappeared.  I  was 
adopted  by  a  poor  aristocratic  family  of  two.  They 
had  come  to  the  Pacific  coast  from  the  south  for  the 
woman's  health.  She  died  shortly  after  they  took  me, 


248  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

and  the  bereaved  head  of  the  family  and  I  went  back 
to  their  former  home  in  Texas. 

"Well,  he  soon  went  to  the  dogs — grief,  I  believe, 
was  the  excuse,  though  whiskey  was  the  cause — and  I 
drifted  out  into  the  world  on  my  own  hook  while  still 
a  lad.  So  that  you  see  I  am  older  in  experience  than 
in  years,  at  least." 

"Go  on  and  tell  some  more — how  came  you  in  San 
Francisco  when " 

"Oh,  when  I  saw  you  first?"  he  said  softly.  "Why, 
I  drifted  from  Texas  to  Colorado;  tried  a  mining 
camp;  got  a  little  stake,  and  attended  a  mining  school. 
Then  the  excitement  broke  out  in  Nevada  and  I  joined 
the  great  horde  that  headed  this  way.  I  went  by  San 
Francisco,  in  order  to  see  the  town  where  I  was  born 
— and,  stumbled  on  to  this  little  jewel,  as  we  appear 
to^do  on  all  things  that  are  good !  So  that's  about  all, 
except  that  I  am  crazy  with  happiness  now  after  a 
long  siege  of  lunacy  brought  about  by  the  fear  that  I 
should  never  get  you !  Now,  what  do  you  think  about 
my  ancestor?  Isn't  my  family  skeleton  a  regular 
Goliath?" 

"It  isn't  your  fault!"  replied  Ruby,  nestling  closer 
to  him.  "You  see,  you  have  already  taught  me  some 
of  your  theories  in  regard  to  heredity." 

"And  you  will  accept  me,  now?" 

"Yes,  Robert!" 

They  had  reached  the  steps  of  the  Mooring  home. 
Ray  drew  a  ring  from  his  pocket  and  begun  to  separate 
her  fingers  in  order  to  place  the  ring  on  the  right  one. 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     249 

"You  see,  I  had  prepared  for  this  before  I  read  that 
contemptible ' ' 

"One  more  minute!"  interrupted  Ruby.  "Some 
strange  things  happened  at  the  bank — on  the  inside 
tonight.  There  will  be  some  disclosures  tomorrow 
morning;  I  do  not  know  what  is  in  store,  but  I  think 
you  should  know  everything!" 

"Oh,  you  want  to  tell  me  that  Horatio  Stallings  is 
in  the  bank  and  that  he  came  in  disguise,  and " 

"How  did  you  know  it — are  you  in  league  with 
them,  too?"  she  interrupted. 

"Wait,  Miss  Impatience!  I  had  seen  Stallings  ap 
pear  as  the  tramp,  Flunkey,  and  heard  him  pull  off  that 
bluff  about  having  dynamite  in  his  grip.  I  believed 
it  then  and  didn't  propose  to  have  that  building  blown 
up,  especially  while  one  Miss  Ruby  Mooring  was  in 
side  of  it.  So  I  went  and  took  this  trusty  rifle,  as  the 
hero  would  say,  from  its  place  of  concealment  and 
stationed  myself  at  a  point  from  which  I  could  observe 
the  rear  of  the  building. 

"Well,  when  Mr.  Flunkey  came  back  to  go  on  picket 
duty  I  was  pretty  close  to  him.  He  took  a  bundle  of 
keys  from  his  pocket  and  began  to  try  the  lock  of 
the  rear  door. 

"I  shoved  the  muzzle  of  my  rifle  under  his  nose  and 
told  him  to  hands  up  and  keep  silent,  as  I  have  been 
told  regular  holdups  do.  But  I  came  near  dropping 
said  gun  when  my  prisoner  exclaimed  in  a  whisper : 

"  'Bob,  you  fool,  don't  you  know  me  ?  Say,  you 
leave  everything  on  the  inside  to  me  and  you  hang 


250  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

about  here  until  the  girl  comes  out  and  then  take  her 
home!" 

"Then  you  know  more  about  it,  Robert,  than  I !" 

"I  have  told  you  all  that  I  know;  but  it  is  in  Stall- 
ings'  hands  and  everything  is  safe.  He  said  to  leave 
it  to  him,  and  I  have  done  so  with  the  utmost  faith. 
He  left  you  to  my  hands  and  it  has  proved  perfectly 
satisfactory — after  I  caught  you!  Now,  may  I  put 
this  ring  on  your  finger  with  the  binding  obligation  on 
each  of  us  that  it  carries,  or  shall  I  have  to  hold  you 
and  force  it  on?" 

She  held  up  her  hand  and  extended  the  engagement 
finger ! 

"Oh,  but  isn't  it  funny  after  all?"  laughed  Ruby  as 
Ray  was  about  to  leave  her  at  the  door. 

"What's  funny?" 

"Why,  I  thought  at  first  I  was  being  held  up, 
and " 

"You  are!"  replied  Ray,  as  he  grabbed  her  about 
the  waist  and  lifted  her  till  the  tips  of  her  toes  barely 
touched  the  ground  and  planted  kiss  after  kiss  upon 
her  lips. 

When  Ruby  entered  the  house  she  found  her  mother 
still  up  and  the  place  all  upset.  Trunks  were  open  and 
partly  packed,  the  furniture  was  disarranged  and  many 
of  the  pictures  had  been  taken  from  the  walls;  all  of 
the  beds  that  were  not  necessary  for  immediate  use 
were  stripped. 

"What  has  kept  you  so  late,  Daughter — I  need  your 
assistance  in  packing." 

"Things  are  all  upset  at  the  bank,  and " 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     251 

"Oh,  I  know  all  about  it — your  father  and  I  planned 
the  whole  matter  before  he  left  this  morning." 

"But  why  are  you  packing,  Mother?" 

"We  are  going  away,  of  course — we  will  dispose  of 
everything  as  quickly  as  possible  and  get  out  of  this 
place.  I  wish  we  could  get  away  tomorrow !  But  we 
cannot — we  couldn't  give  the  stuff  away  in  that  time. 
Your  father  will  join  us  later;  he  will  get  away  to 
night." 

"It  will  take  several  days  to  wind  up  the  affairs  at 
the  bank,"  suggested  Ruby. 

"No,  no.  We  can  clean  it  up  in  a  day,  Daughter. 
There  will  be  little  to  tell  the  few  depositors  who  hap 
pen  to  appear  tomorrow  morning.  Your  father  will 
be  far  on  his  way,  and  you  and  I  will  just  go  down 
and  tell  those  who  happen  along  that  the  bank  has 
failed,  sell  off  the  fixtures  and  then  dispose  of  the 
things  in  the  house." 

Ruby  then  knew  that  her  mother  was  ignorant  of 
what  had  really  happened  at  the  bank,  but  decided  to 
lead  her  on. 

"But  we  shall  pay  the  depositors  off  as  long  as  the 
money  lasts,  shall  we  not,  Mother?"  she  asked. 

"There  will  be  none  left,"  smiled  Mrs.  Mooring. 

"Mother,  do  you  mean " 

"That  the  bank  has  failed!" 

"But  there  is  considerable  money;  nearly  enough 
to  pay  off  the  depositors,  Mother!" 

"Now,  Daughter,  you  are  getting  old  enough  to  be 
taken  into  our  confidence.  We  have  lived  a  hard  life, 
as  you  know.  Your  father  does  not  propose  to  go 


252  THE  TOLL  OP  THE  SANDS 

back  into  the  old  condition  of  poverty  any  more.  We 
have  had  too  much  of  it.  He  is  going  to  get  out  to 
night,  and  is  going  to  take  enough  money  with  him  to 
keep  us  comfortable  the  rest  of  our  lives " 

"But,  Mother " 

"Do  not  interrupt  me  again.  Your  father  is  leaving 
tonight.  We  will  follow  as  soon  as  we  can  get  rid  of 
the  things.  We  will  go  to  San  Francisco  and  wait  until 
he  settles  down.  We  will  then  live  quietly  in  South 
America,  or  wherever  he  decides  to  take  us  and  be 
free  from  poverty!" 

"Whose  money  is  he  taking?" 

"Everybody's — all  bankers  who  fail  do  that,  Daugh 
ter — he  will  leave  the  building  behind!" 

"There  are  those  who  cannot  afford  to  lose  it — who 
have  their  last  cent  in  the  bank!"  remonstrated  the 
girl. 

"That  is  their  misfortune — that  is  the  way  of  life; 
those  who  have  only  can  lose;  and,  those  who  get  it 
are  looked  up  to.  It  doesn't  matter  who  you  are,  if 
you  have  the  money — you  are  right;  and,  if  you 
haven't  it — you  are  all  wrong!" 

"Robert  Ray  has  his  money  in  the  bank;  he  put  it 
there  to  help  Father's  credit !" 

"Bob  Ray's  foot!"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Mooring.  "He 
is  no  better  than  others — not  so  good  as  many.  Don't 
be  silly  any  longer,  Ruby.  We  worked  him  as  we 
worked  others.  Do  you  suppose  we  should  have  in 
vited  him  to  our  house  and  permitted  him  to  associate 
with  you  without  a  purpose?  Why,  we  have  been 


THE  TOLL,  OF  THE  SANDS  253 

easy  with  him.    We  had  to  use  more  drastic  measures 
on  the  squaw  man." 

Ruby  Mooring  had  now  been  given  the  real  inside 
character  of  her  mother  and  father.  It  was  the  open 
ing  of  her  eyes  to  a  new  phase  of  life,  and  her  own 
father  and  mother  were  the  principals!  Should  she 
hunt  Robert  Ray  up  at  that  time  of  night  and  tell  him 
what  she  now  knew?  But  he  had  said  he  had  left  it 
all  to  Stallings.  Was  Stallings  in  league  with  her 
father  and  mother  ?  But  her  mother  was  not  so  deeply 
to  blame,  after  all.  Despite  her  mother's  apparent 
independence  Ruby  knew  that  her  father  had  always 
dominated  her  mother  when  it  came  to  the  real  test, 
as  if  Mrs.  Mooring  was  a  piece  of  clay  in  his  hands. 

But  had  she  done  wrong  in  leading  her  mother  on 
to  divulge  the  plans,  by  pretending  innocence?  She 
really  knew  nothing,  though,  except  that  her  father 
intended  to  leave.  She  thought  he  was  only  leaving 
to  escape  the  wrath  of  the  men  whom  he  would  be 
unable  to  pay.  She  hurried  to  confess  to  her  mother : 

"Mother,  I  knew  Father  was  going  away  tonight, 
but  I  did  not  learn  his  plans.  I  thought  he  was  going 
to  leave  because  he  could  not  face  those  whom  he  has 
wronged.  I  did  have  a  vagrant  thought  once  that  he 
maght  take  the  money — I  had  read  of  such  acts — but 
that  passed  and  I  supposed  he  would  naturally  do  as 
near  right  as  he  could  by  leaving  what  there  was  to 
pay  his  debts." 

"He  will  treat  everybody  alike;  he  will  take  it  all!" 
"Is  Mr.  Horatio  Stallings  in  with  Father  on  this — 


254  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

swindle?"  asked  Ruby,  wondering  if  Robert  Ray,  after 
all,  was  to  be  robbed  with  the  others. 

Mrs.  Mooring  looked  at  her  daughter  for  several 
seconds  without  uttering  a  word.  Her  face  assumed 
a  new  expression  for  every  second  of  the  time  and 
turned  as  many  colors. 

"What  do  you  mean,  Ruby?" 

"That  Mr.  Stallings  is  at  the  bank  at  this  moment 
with  Father;  that  he  is  helping  him  to  get  away;  that 
he  will  take  charge  of  affairs  tomorrow  morning.  If 
it  had  not  been  for  him,  Father  would  not  have  been 
able  to  escape  tonight !" 

Mrs.  Mooring  started  as  if  pierced  by  a  knife.  Then 
the  blood  left  her  face  and  she  settled  back  in  her 
chair  with  a  low,  almost  inaudible  groan. 

"You  are  ill,  Mother !  Don't  take  it  so  hard ;  you 
know  that  Father  will  come  out  right  in  the  end !" 

"Go  to  your  room,  Daughter — leave  me  to  myself 
until  morning!"  commanded  the  elder  woman  in  a 
voice,  though  weak  and  sad,  that  still  retained  a  tone 
of  firmness. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 
A  NOTE  AND  A  PICTURE 

THE  crowd  was  already  gathering  about  the 
bank  next  morning.  Horatio  Stallings  was 
still  busy  at  the  books.  He  had  put  in  the 
whole  night  at  work.  After  Mooring  left  he  went 
to  the  corner  of  the  vault  and  assured  himself  that 
the  old  gunnysack  had  not  been  disturbed.  Taking 
it  from  its  hiding  place,  he  emptied  out  the  money 
on  a  clean  place  on  the  vault  floor  and  counted  it. 
Then  he  put  the  different  amounts  back  where  they 
belonged  as  well  as  he  knew. 

Ruby  Mooring  appeared  at  the  front  door  of  the 
bank  and  signalled  for  admittance.  The  men  gazed  at 
her  with  surprise.  She  smiled  innocently. 

"How  did  you  get  out  of  the  bank?"  asked  one  of 
the  leaders. 

"Why,  they  tired  of  having  a  woman  around  and 
sent  me  home,"  she  laughed. 

But  when  Horatio  Stallings  opened  the  door  and 
admitted  her  a  more  puzzled  expression  went  the 
rounds  of  the  men's  faces. 

"I  didn't  see  that  fellow  in  there  yesterday,"  ex 
claimed  a  man  who  had  been  active  in  the  demands 
on  the  bank. 

"Neither  did  I,  and  I  thought  I  watched  things 
pretty  close,"  said  another. 

"Where  are  the  night-watchers  ?" 


256  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

"I  was  on  until  midnight  and  no  such  man  had  en 
tered  the  place  up  to  that  time,"  explained  another. 

"I  took  your  place  and  I  can  swear  that  nobody 
passed  through  this  door,"  volunteered  the  man  still 
on  duty. 

"I  was  watching  the  side-windows  and  they  have 
never  been  opened,"  announced  another. 

"Ask  the  man  at  the  rear?" 

"I  have  been  on  since  I  relieved  Flunkey  and  there 
has  not  been  a  soul  stirring,"  explained  the  man  at 
the  rear  door. 

"Where  is  Flunkey?" 

"Yes,  where  is  Flunkey?"  asked  half  a  dozen  voices. 

"I  haven't  seen  him  since  I  relieved  him,"  explained 
the  guard  at  the  rear  door.  "He  appeared  to  be  a 
little  gruff  about  something.  I  was  a  minute  or  so 
late  and  I  guess  he  didn't  like  it.  He  walked  away, 
carrying  his  big  valise  as  if  he  were  nervous." 

"Say,  tell  Mooring  to  show  himself — things  don't 
look  right  about  here  this  morning!"  shouted  one  of 
the  leaders. 

There  was  no  response. 

The  demand  was  repeated  after  a  few  seconds  of 
waiting. 

Horatio  Stallings  came  to  one  of  the  windows  and 
stood  smiling  at  the  crowd. 

"Hey,  Mr.  New  Man,  where  is  Mooring?  Is  he 
going  to  open  up  on  time?"  asked  one  of  the  leaders. 

"Just  be  patient,  gentlemen,"  replied  Stallings  in  an 
assuring  tone  of  voice.  "Every  one  of  you  will  be 
treated  right.  You  shall  have  a  square  deal.  There 
will  be  no  partiality  shown." 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     257 

"We  are  not  here  for  talk  about  deals  and  par 
tiality;  we  are  here  for  our  money,  and  we  want  to 
see  Mr.  Jack  Mooring' s  face  at  the  paying  teller's  win 
dow/'  replied  the  man  who  had  asked  about  Mooring. 

At  that  juncture  Robert  Ray  joined  the  crowd.  He 
was  smiling  slyly  through  the  window  at  Ruby  Moor 
ing,  and  trying  to  speak  to  her  in  sign  language,  when 
Stallings  called  out: 

"Mr.  Ray,  will  you  and  two  other  gentlemen — any 
other  two  that  the  depositors  may  select — please  come 
inside  for  a  few  minutes  for  a  short  consultation?" 

"No  trickery!"  shouted  half  a  dozen  voices. 

"No  compromises;  no  delays,"  called  out  others. 

"Mr.  Ray  is  one  of  the  largest  depositors  of  the 
bank,"  explained  Stallings.  "I  am  asking  for  repre 
sentatives  of  the  rest  of  you;  you  want  to  be  sensible 
about  this  matter  and  do  nothing  that  would  destroy 
your  own  interest.  It  is  merely  for  facilitating  mat 
ters  that  I  have  asked  this. 

"Wait  until  Flunkey  comes!"  shouted  the  railroad 
depositors.  "We  shall  depend  upon  Flunkey." 

"You  may  depend  upon  Flunkey,"  replied  Stallings. 
"It  is  through  Flunkey  that  your  money  has  been 
saved.  Flunkey  was  up  late  last  night  and  may  not 
appear  among  you.  He  doubtless  knows  that  every 
thing  is  all  right.  It  will  soon  be  time  to  open  and 
I  shall  open  the  bank  whether  Flunkey  is  here  or  not. 
We  want  to  begin  giving  you  your  money  as  soon  as 
we  can.  That  is  why  I  am  asking  for  this  little  con 
sultation  beforehand." 


258  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

"Go  in  boys,  but  keep  your  eyes  on  them,"  agreed 
the  leaders  outside. 

"I  have  asked  you  men  in  for  your  advice,"  said 
Stallings  when  the  three  had  entered.  "I  am  in  charge 
here  and  want  to  wind  up  the  affairs  of  this  bank  as 
quickly  as  possible.  I  want  the  home  depositors  paid 
off,  and  if  there  is  anybody  to  wait  I  want  it  to  be 
the  outsiders,  who  may  look  to  their  securities.  I 
have  gone  over  the  books  carefully  and  checked  up 
everything  and  I  find  that  we  are  short  exactly  twenty- 
five  thousand  dollars.  We  can  get  that  amount  out  of 
the  building  here  and  other  town  properties  belong 
ing  to  the  bank. 

"We  have  more  than  enough  to  pay  off  the  men 
who  are  here  and  are  likely  to  appear  today  or  to 
morrow — some  of  the  local  depositors  are  out-  of 
town.  But  what  I  called  you  in  for  is  to  ask  your 
advice  about  taking  chances  on  paying  out  in  full, 
with  the  expectation  of  raising  the  twenty-five  thou 
sand  shortage  before  the  outside  depositors  return?" 

"Our  people  want  their  money — they  will  accept 
no  delays,"  replied  the  two  men  who  had  entered  with 
Ray  in  one  voice. 

"But  I  was  going  to  suggest,"  explained  Stallings, 
"that  we  could  deduct  the  pro  rata  of  this  shortage 
from  each  account  and  this  would  assure  no  further 
trouble.  We  can  pay  the  men  this  on  their  accounts, 
which  would  leave  only  a  small  amount  coming  to 
each  one,  except  Mr.  Ray  here,  whose  account  is 
larger  than  any  of  the  others.  Some  of  the  men 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     259 

would  not  have  their  accounts  reduced  over  a  dollar, 
others  more,  and  others  not  so  much." 

"Let  the  fellows  who  are  not  here  look  out  for 
themselves;  we  have  gone  to  a  lot  of  trouble;  serve 
those  who  come  first !"  demanded  the  two  men  repre 
senting  the  depositors  outside.  "If  the  paying  don't 
begin,  and  in  full  at  that,  on  the  time  promised  yes 
terday  by  Mooring  they  will  tear  this  building  down." 

"That  wouldn't  get  their  money,"  said  Stallings 
with  a  momentary  flash  of  defiance  in  his  eyes. 

"Let's  see,  what's  the  exact  amount  of  my  ac 
count?"  asked  Robert  Ray. 

Stallings  showed  him  the  figures. 

"It  will  stand  it,"  said  Ray  in  an  undertone.  "Gen 
tlemen,"  he  continued,  "I  will  take  a  chance.  I  will 
not  withdraw  my  account  until  everybody  else  is  paid. 
Throw  open  the  doors  on  time,  Mr.  Stallings,  and 
give  them  their  money !" 

"Bob!"  called  Stallings  as  the  committee  was  leav 
ing.  "I  want  you  to  remain;  I  want  you  to  act  as 
cashier  in  handing  out  your  own  money  to  others," 
he  smiled. 

"That's  all  right,  Mr.  Stallings,"  said  Ray,  lower 
ing  his  voice,  "I  will  sacrifice  the  last  cent  for  the 
sake  of  that  little  girl  in  there." 

Ruby  Mooring  was  then  called  and  Stallings  ex 
plained  :  "I  want  you  and  Bob  to  act  as  cashiers  while 
I  keep  the  accounts  straight  and  write  checks  for  those 
who  do  not  know  how  much  they  have  in  bank,  and 
who  do  not  bring  checks  filled  out  for  the  proper 
amount.  One  of  you  go  to  the  cashier's  and  the  other 


260  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

to  the  receiving  teller's  window,  and  when  the  time 
comes  let  us  hand  out  this  money  as  fast  as  we  can 
and  relieve  the  poor  devils.  I  don't  blame  them  for 
wanting  their  money;  I've  been  broke  myself!" 

When  the  money  and  books  had  been  arranged  be 
tween  the  two  windows  where  Stallings  was  in  easy 
touch  with  his  cashiers,  it  still  lacked  half  an  hour  of 
opening  time. 

"Let's  snot  wait,  Bob,  let's  throw  open  the  doors 
and  begin  the  work,"  suggested  Stallings. 

"Let  her  go,"  replied  Ray. 

The  crowd  was  still  lined  up  far  out  into  the  street 
at  a  few  minutes  to  twelve  o'clock.  Horatio  Stallings 
looked  out  along  the  line  to  see  how  they  were  pro 
gressing  in  their  work.  His  eye  caught  a  glimpse  of 
a  woman,  deeply  veiled,  standing  near  an  electric 
light  pole  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  street.  He  did 
not  look  up  for  several  seconds.  But  when  he  did  so, 
he  glanced  out  of  an  angle  of  his  eyes  so  as  not  to 
indicate  that  he  was  looking  in  that  direction. 

The  figure  on  the  other  side  of  the  street  stepped 
behind  the  pole,  stood  very  still  for  a  few  seconds  and 
then  hurried  away. 

Horatio  Stallings  smiled  to  himself;  but  it  was  a 
smile  mingled  with  many  emotions.  He  had  recog 
nized  the  woman. 

The  crowd  had  dwindled  to  only  a  few  at  closing 
time.  The  line-up  was  reduced  to  a  score  when  the 
hand  of  the  clock  reached  the  hour. 

"Let's  stay  open  until  we  finish — that  is,  if  you  two 
are  not  tired  out?"  suggested  Stallings. 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     261 

"Ruby — Miss  Mooring  must  be  tired,"  stammered 
Ray. 

"A  woman  get  tired  of  spending  money!"  laughed 
the  girl.  "Why  I  could  keep  this  up  another  day  and 
night." 

"Don't  get  excited,  gentlemen!"  called  out  Stal- 
lings.  "We  are  going  to  keep  the  bank  open  as  long 
as  there  is  a  man  at  the  window." 

When  the  last  of  the  depositors  had  been  paid  a 
crowd  of  men  came  hurrying  across  the  street.  They 
shouted  for  Stallings  to  wait  before  closing  the  door. 

"We  have  about  agreed  that  you  are  all  right,  old 
man,"  said  the  spokesman  to  Stallings.  "A  com 
mittee  has  been  organized  to  wait  on  you  and  ask  you 
to  take  on  additional  trouble,  since  you  seem  to  be 
taking  on  a  good  lot  anyway.  We  want  you  to  take 
over  all  the  matters  of  the  late  Andy  Brush.  He  has 
no  relatives,  so  far  as  we  can  ascertain,  and  we  want 
you  to  wind  up  his  affairs  here.  The  employes  are 
all  back  of  us  in  this  request." 

"I'll  let  you  know  later,"  replied  Stallings,  "but 
one  of  the  first  things  will  be  the  closing  of  that  gam 
bling  joint,  if  I  have  anything  to  do  with  the  matter." 

The  committeemen  went  away  divided  as  to  the 
manner  in  which  they  should  make  their  report. 

"You  two  make  a  fine  team,"  said  Stallings,  as 
Ruby  and  Ray  were  preparing  to  leave.  "I  don't 
know  what  I  would  have  done  without  you,  especially 
the  young  lady's  hard  work  and  moral  influence,  and 
your  hard  work — and  money — Bob.  That  reminds 
me,  Bob,  you  might  as  well  take  what  mcrey  you 


262     THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

have  above  the  amount  which  you  have  offered  upon 
the  altar  of  sacrifice!" 

"No,  let  it  stay  until  everybody  else  is  satisfied.  It 
is  safe  with  you — safer  than  it  would  be  in  my 
pockets." 

"It  looks  as  though  I  ought  to  get  down  to  dish 
washing  on  that  two  days'  lot  of  soiled  dishes,"  said 
Ruby  Mooring,  looking  about  at  the  piles  of  plates  and 
cups  and  saucers  on  the  various  tables,  where  they  had 
been  stacked  after  hurried  meals. 

"I'll  send  them  to  the  restaurant,  where  they  be 
long,"  said  Stallings.  "We  ought  to  be  able  to  eat 
and  sleep  in  the  regular  way  for  a  time." 

As  Ruby  and  Robert  Ray  left  the  building  Stal 
lings  followed  them  with  a  meditative  look.  Then  it 
changed  to  one  of  approval,  accompanied  by  an  ex 
pression  softer  than  that  of  friendship.  It  was 
paternal-like  in  its  depths. 

The  young  couple  were  well  on  their  way  to  the 
Mooring  home  before  Ruby  referred  to  the  unpleasant 
subject  of  her  father.  "We  have  been  too  busy  today 
to  gossip,"  she  began,  "but  I  presume  that  you  know 
Father  is  gone?" 

"I  suspected  it  from  what  you  told  me  last  night 
and  from  his  absence  from  the  bank  today;  but  he 
didn't  take  much  money  with  him!" 

"I  do  not  understand  it  all,  Robert.  I  was  guessing 
a  great  deal  last  night.  I  wanted  to  be  on  the  safe 
side,  you  know.  I  knew  that  Father  was  going  away, 
but  suggested  the  part  about  his  taking  the  money 
with  him  on  a  mere  surmise.  But  when  I  went  into 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     263 

the  house  I  found  Mother  packing  the  things  to  leave. 
She  then  admitted  that  Father  was  going  to  abscond 
and  take  the  money.  I  started  to  hunt  you,  late  as 
it  was,  and  tell  you  about  it,  but  I  was  afraid  you 
would  scold,  after  you  had  shut  me  off  so  often  about 
the  matter." 

"And  I  would  have  scolded !  Didn't  I  tell  you  that 
I  had  left  everything  to  Stallings?" 

"He  must  have  persuaded  Father  not  to  take  the 
money — anyway,  he  managed  everything  nicely.  I 
am  so  glad!  We  owe  a  great  deal  to  Mr.  Stallings 
— and  you !  But  you  should  not  have  met  the  shortage. 
You  see,  I  am  taking  an  interest  already  in  your 
financial  affairs !  Do  you  think  you  will  get  it  back  ?" 

"I  am  not  worrying.  If  it  can  be  gotten  back,  Stal 
lings  will  get  it.  I  left  everything  with  him  last  night 
and  I  am  still  relying  on  him.  I  consider  myself 
lucky,  anyway.  I'm  away  ahead  of  the  financial  mile- 
post,  and  have  the  promise  of  marriage  of  the  dearest, 
prettiest — " 

A  small  hand  went  to  his  mouth  and  covered  it 
with  its  palm.  He  turned  it  quickly  and  kissed  it 
repeatedly  on  the  back.  Then  she  drew  it  away. 

"What  will  your  mother  do  now  that  your  father 
is  gone?"  asked  Ray. 

"She  and  I  will  follow  Father  as  soon  as  we  can 
sell  the  things." 

"Are  you  going?" 

"What  else  is  there  to  do?"  she  asked  sadly. 

"Why,  what  did  you  promise  me  last  night?"  he 
asked  with  surprise. 


264  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

"To  marry  you,  and  I  shall,  if  you  don't  back  out. 
But  matters  are  in  such  awful  shape.  It  is  too  late 
to  speak  to  Father,  and  I  know  what  Mother  will  say. 
You  know  I  should  have  their  consent,  or  at  least, 
ask  it  before — " 

"Do  you  think  your  mother  will  object  to  me  now — 
after  she  knows  all?"  interrupted  Ray. 

"Yes — I  fear  she  will.  She  spoke  very  unfavorably 
of  you  last  night.  But  she  didn't  know  of  our  en 
gagement.  She  was  just  talking  of  Father's  busi 
ness  affairs  and  gave  her  opinion  of  you  as  a  side 
matter,  not  knowing  what  I  thought  about  it." 

"Let  us  talk  to  her/'  urged  Ray.  "Now  is  the 
time.  I  will  lay  the  whole  matter  before  her.  Let's 
go  in  right  now  and  beard  the  lion  or  lioness" — he 
smiled  with  a  doubtful  expression — "in  her  den!" 

"It  will  do  no  good,  I  fear,  but  if  you  wish  to  try 
I  will  face  her  with  you!" 

When  the  two  entered  the  house  Mrs.  Mooring  was 
not  at  her  accustomed  place.  Ruby  ran  from  room  to 
room  until  she  had  looked  everywhere  except  in  her 
own  room. 

"Oh,  I  expect  she  is  visiting  Miss  Martin,"  she  ex 
plained,  remembering  that  her  mother  frequently 
visited  the  teacher  since  she  had  moved  to  the  hotel. 
"Wait  until  I  take  these  things  to  my  room  and  we 
will  go  to  the  hotel  and  see  if  she  is  there." 

Robert  Ray  heard  Ruby  sobbing  shortly  after  she 
had  entered  her  room.  He  knocked  at  the  door,  and, 
receiving  no  response,  rushed  into  the  room. 

"Mother  is  gone,  too!"  she  cried.     "She  left  this 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     265 

note  and  an  old  picture  that  I  had  never  seen  before. 
I  just  saw  that  she  had  gone  away  and  could  read  no 
farther.  She  was  morose  this  morning  when  I  left,  but 
kissed  me  more  affectionately  than  she  had  for  years 
and  told  me  to  go  on  to  the  bank.  I  never  suspected 
that  she  intended  to  leave.  What  shall  I  do?" 

"It  is  getting  late,  shall  I  take  you  to  the  hotel  or 
get  Miss  Martin  to  come  over  and  stay  with  you?" 
finally  asked  Ray. 

"Get  her  to  come,  please." 

Ray  found  the  teacher  glad  to  spend  the  night  with 
Ruby,  and  after  they  had  consoled  the  deserted  girl 
as  best  they  could  Ray  went  to  his  own  rooms  down 
town  to  put  in  such  a  night  as  such  a  condition  of 
affairs  would  bring. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 
THE  TRIAL  OF  RAY  AND  MOKAVA 

THE  court  room  of  the  new  city  hall  was 
crowded.  It  was  the  first  important  case  to 
be  tried  in  the  new  district  court,  created  for 
the  town  of  Mokava,  and  the  idle  of  the  town  turned 
out.  They  were  there  long  before  the  time  for  court 
to  open.  Gay  women  from  the  Casino  Annex  had  put 
on  somber  apparel  and  gamblers  had  come  in  milder 
clothes  than  they  usually  wore. 

Robert  Ray  had  been  busy  preparing  the  evidence 
for  the  defense.  He  had  consulted  his  lawyers  fre 
quently,  but  he  had  more  often  talked  with  Horatio 
Stallings.  He  found  that  his  friend  was  versed  in 
the  rule  of  common  sense,  which  is  the  foundation  of 
all  law  and  its  administration. 

They  had  learned  that  the  bullet  had  been  extracted 
from  the  body  of  Brush  and  they  had  also  ascertained 
its  dimensions.  Ray  had  found  an  empty  cartridge 
shell  at  the  rear  of  the  old  adobe  building.  TJiis  he 
had  not  told  any  one  except  Stallings  and  his  attorney. 

"If  you  insist  I  will  attend  the  trial,"  had  offered 
Stallings,  "but  I  may  the  better  put  in  my  time  on  the 
business  of  the  late  Andy  Brush — there  is  nothing  in 
the  charge  against  you  and  old  Mokava,  anyway!" 

It  was  agreed  that  both  should  be  tried  together. 
Many  of  those  present  at  the  Casino  Annex  on  the 
night  of  the  tragedy  had  left  the  camp,  but  the  prin- 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     267 

cipal  witnesses  had  remained.  Nevada  sat  by  the  side 
of  her  father.  She  had  been  in  retirement  ever  since 
her  brother  and  sister  were  expelled  from  school  and 
but  few  knew  that  she  had  returned  from  the  Indian 
school  where  she  had  taken  Amosa  and  Grant.  She 
had  spent  the  time  since  her  return  mostly  at  the 
room  she  had  taken  on  the  night  of  her  arrival. 

Ruby  Mooring  sat  farther  back  in  the  audience, 
heavily  veiled.  She  had  promised  not  to  attend,  but 
when  the  time  came  she  could  not  resist  coming  that 
she  might  be  near  Robert  Ray  in  a  time  that  looked 
to  her  like  a  crisis,  though  he  had  insisted  that  there 
was  nothing  in  the  charges  against  him. 

The  jury  was  selected  without  delay.  The  district 
attorney  excused  two  or  three,  but  the  attorney  for 
Ray  and  Mokava  accepted  them  as  a  whole.  Wit 
nesses  were  first  called  who  were  in  the  room  with 
Brush  when  the  fatal  bullet  came  through  the  win 
dow.  They  detailed  the  circumstances  of  the  tragedy 
without  being  cross-examined  by  the  attorney  for  the 
defense.  The  porter  and  waiter  then  described  the 
apparition  which  they  had  seen  out  near  the  adobe 
early  in  the  evening,  but  were  now  certain  that  it  was 
the  form  of  a  man,  and  were  not  in  doubt  as  at  first. 

The  men  who  made  the  arrest  followed  and  de 
scribed  the  taking  of  Mokava.  They  came  upon  him 
when  he  was  walking  rapidly  from  the  direction  of 
the  Casino  Annex  shortly  after  the  shooting.  He  was 
carrying  a  rifle — the  one  shown  to  them.  They  had 
taken  it  from  him  and  extracted  the  empty  cartridge 
shell  which  they  identified  before  the  jury.  Mokava 


268  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

had  made  no  declarations  further  than  that  he  asserted 
that  he  did  not  understand — "did  not  savvy!" 

The  physician  who  had  held  the  autopsy  was  called 
and  testified  that  the  shot  which  he  had  found  in  the 
body  of  Brush  had  caused  the  death.  He  was  about 
to  leave  the  witness  stand  when  the  attorney  for  Ray 
and  Mokava  asked : 

"Have  you  the  bullet  that  was  extracted  from  the 
body,  Doctor?" 

"I  have." 

"Kindly  produce  it!" 

The  physician  took  a  small  bullet  from  his  pocket. 
It  was  oval-shaped  at  one  end  and  concaved  at  the 
other.  He  explained  that  the  bullet  was  practically 
in  the  same  form  as  it  had  been  when  it  left  the  gun. 
He  said  that  it  had  struck  no  bones  and  that  its  con 
tact  with  the  window-pane  had  not  lessened  its 
velocity  to  any  considerable  extent.  Then  he  gave  it 
as  his  opinion  that  the  missile  had  but  a  small  charge 
of  powder  behind  it,  or  that  the  powder  had  been 
damaged  in  some  way. 

Witnesses  then  testified  that  Robert  Ray  was  the 
owner  of  the  gun  which  had  been  taken  from  Mokava. 
Others  were  called  who  testified  to  the  gambling  of 
Mokava  at  the  place  of  the  deceased  prior  to  his  death, 
of  the  winning  of  large  sums  of  money  and  the  home 
of  the  settler,  and  his  ejectment  from  the  place  the 
following  day.  Others  told  of  the  kicking  of  the 
squaw  wife  of  the  defendant  from  the  premises  by 
Brush  two  mornings  prior  to  the  tragedy. 

Witnesses  were  then  called  who  testified  to  the  close 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     269 

friendship  existing  between  Ray  and  Mokava,  and  of 
the  strained  relations  between  Ray  and  the  deceased, 
especially  of  the  altercation  between  them  at  Brush's 
place  prior  to  Ray's  going  away.  Then  the  episodes 
in  which  Ray  took  part  in  the  water  and  townsite  dis 
putes  between  Mokava  and  Brush  and  his  partner  were 
also  explained. 

The  prosecution  then  rested  its  case. 

A  blacksmith,  who  was  also  an  expert  repairer  of 
guns,  was  the  first  witness  called  for  the  defense.  He 
was  shown  the  cartridge  shell  which  had  been  intro 
duced  as  having  come  from  the  rifle  found  in  Mo 
kava' s  possession  and  then  given  the  bullet  which  was 
cut  from  the  body  of  the  deceased.  Then  asked  his 
opinion  as  an  expert  if  the  bullet  had  come  from  the 
shell  in  his  hand,  he  fitted  the  two  together  several 
times  and  smilingly  said: 

"No!  This  is  a  thirty-two  caliber  bullet  and  the 
shell  is  a  thirty-eight." 

A  ripple  of  surprise  ran  through  the  audience  while 
the  jury  was  examining  the  bullet  and  cartridge  shell, 
and  Ruby  Mooring  gave  a  sigh  of  relief.  The  sincerity 
of  the  gunsmith  was  so  apparent  that  the  prosecuting 
attorney  did  not  ask  him  any  questions. 

When  the  jury  weas  through  with  the  examination 
of  the  shell  and  bullet  Robert  Ray  asked  his  attorney 
to  procure  the  bullet.  He  did  so,  and  while  the  attor 
neys  were  quibbling  over  a  point  of  law  Robert  Ray 
slipped  the  shell,  which  he  had  found  at  the  rear  of 
the  adobe,  from  his  pocket  and  tried  the  two  together. 
They  fitted  snugly  and  he  knew  he  had  found  the 


270  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

shell  from  which  the  bullet  had  sped  to  the  heart  of 
Andy  Brush.  He  slipped  the  shell  back  in  his  pocket 
and  gave  the  bullet  to  his  attorney,  who  had  just 
seated  himself.  No  one  perceived  the  act. 

Ray  then  took  the  witness  stand.  He  stated  that 
Nevada,  the  daughter  of  Mokava,  had  returned  with 
him  from  the  Indian  school  on  the  night  train  just 
previous  to  the  murder,  and  that  he  had  sent  for  Mo- 
kava,  who  had  visited  them  at  the  rooming  house; 
that  after  a  consultation  about  Mokava's  affairs  and 
the  departure  of  his  wife,  it  had  been  decided  that 
Tehana  would  be  needed  to  sign  some  papers;  that 
Mokava  was  to  leave  on  the  following  morning  to 
bring  her  back.  He  had  suggested  to  Mokava  that 
the  latter  might  get  a  chance  to  kill  some  small  game 
on  his  trip,  and  volunteered  the  loan  of  his  rifle.  The 
settler  had  accepted  the  loan  of  the  gun  and  was 
starting  away  with  it. 

"At  that  juncture,"  said  Ray,  "a  shot  was  heard 
in  the  direction  of  the  Casino  Annex,  and  we  all 
noticed  it  for  the  moment,  but  concluded  that  it  was 
one  of  the  ordinary  wanton  shots  which  are  fre 
quently  heard  about  camp  at  night.  Mokava  then 
left  us  and  went  towards  his  teepee.  His  route  led  by 
the  rear  of  the  Casino  Annex." 

Nevada  and  the  landlady  followed  Robert  Ray  upon 
the  stand  and  told  subsequently  the  same  facts  that 
Ray  had  testified  to.  Other  witnesses  were  called, 
who  stated  that  the  nearest  practical  route  from  the 
house  where  Ray  was  staying  to  the  teepee  of  Mo 
kava  lay  along  the  rear  of  the  Casino  Annex. 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     271 

"To  be  frank  about  this  matter,  your  honor,"  said 
the  district  attorney,  "it  is  my  opinion  that  we  have 
the  wrong  persons  arrested  in  this  case." 

"I  agree  with  you,"  smiled  the  judge.  "Gentle 
men  of  the  jury,  you  will  sign  a  verdict  finding  the  de 
fendants  not  guilty!" 

Nevada  threw  her  arms  about  her  father's  neck, 
and  the  veiled  girl  back  in  the  audience  came  near 
forgetting  herself  and  following  Nevada's  act,  though 
it  was  Robert  Ray's  neck  that  was  about  to  receive 
her  arms,  when  Ruby  Mooring  thought  of  herself 
and  extended  her  hand  instead. 

#       *       *       *       * 

The  sun  rose  red  over  the  restless  sands  the  fol 
lowing  morning.  Two  lazy  burros,  driven  by  Mokava, 
drew  a  rickety,  weather-beaten  old  wagon  in  front  of 
the  rooming  house  where  Nevada  had  been  living 
since  her  fathePs  arrest.  The  wagon  was  loaded 
with  supplies  and  also  contained  some  bedding  and 
the  old  teepee  which  once  stood  at  the  rear  of  the 
adobe,  now  used  as  a  storage  room  for  the  Casino 
Annex. 

Nevada  came  out  of  the  house  wearing  a  dress  of 
a  coarse  material  which  she  had  made  for  outdoor 
use.  Her  father  still  sat  in  the  wagon. 

"He  promised  to  be  here  and  say  good-bye — there 
he  comes  now !"  smiled  Nevada. 

"I  was  a  little  late,"  apologized  Robert  Ray.  "Slept 
so  soundly  last  night  after  the  great  load  was  lifted 
from  our  shoulders,  Mokava,  that  I  came  near  fail 
ing  to  get  up  on  time." 


272  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

"I  expect  it  was  the  other  way,"  teased  Nevada. 
"I  guess  that  after  you  and  Ruby  left  our  place  it 
took  some  time  to  get  through  discussing  the  trial." 

"Now,  Nevada,  Ruby  and  I  did  talk  some  before 
I  left  her  last  night,  but  it  happened  to  be  mostly 
about  you,"  explained  Ray.  "And  I  agreed  to  come 
as  her  emissary  to  you  this  morning.  We  decided 
that  you  should  not  make  this  trip.  It  is  useless. 
Your  father  will  be  able  to  do  as  much,  even  more, 
than  you.  He  will  persuade  your  mother  to  return. 
It  will  all  be  a  trip  of  hardship  for  you  for  nothing. 
You  are  not  accustomed  to  the  desert  as  you  were  in 
the  olden  time,  and  it  is  really  a  risky  trip  for  you 
'  "We  had  planned  some  surprises  and  will  tell  you 
what  we  are  expecting  for  you  and  your  father. 
Your  father  never  executed  any  deed  conveying  the 
home  to  Brush,  and  Stallings,  who  has  charge  of 
Brush's  affairs  now,  is  an  honorable  fellow.  He  will 
see  that  you  get  justice.  The  consideration  having 
been  a  gambling  debt,  everything  was  void  in  law. 
To  be  frank  with  you,  we  expect  to  see  you  installed 
in  your  own  home  again  within  a  few  weeks.  Stall- 
ings  has  stopped  the  gambling  there  already." 

"Father  would  not  take  advantage  of  the  technical 
ities  of  the  law,"  replied  Nevada.  "A  gambling 
obligation  with  him,  though  he  was  drinking  when 
he  gave  it,  is  just  as  binding  as  his  mark  would  be 
to  a  deed.  I  would  not  have  him  repudiate  a  trans 
action  because  he  acted  unwisely.  He  and  his  family 
must  bear  the  consequences." 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     273 

"But  we  will  not  permit  them  to  do  it,"  replied 
Ray. 

"I  must  go  with  Father,"  continued  Nevada  in  a 
sad  voice.  Mokava  had  gone  into  the  house  for  some 
thing  which  he  had  forgotten.  "I  must  not  leave  him 
again.  If  I  had  stayed  before,  those  terrible  things 
would  not  have  happened.  I  feel  responsible  for  it  all 
in  a  way.  You  know  that  you  told  me,  Mr.  Ray, 
what  Mr.  Stallings  said  about  the  duty  of  a  daughter 
to  her  father?  I  shall  follow  it.  And,  if  it  comes 
to  the  worst;  should  Mother  refuse  to  return  and 
Father  insist  on  remaining  with  her,  as  he  will,  I  shall 
also  stay.  I  have  left  him  for  the  last  time.  Whether 
it  be  here,  out  on  the  borders  of  Death  Valley,  in 
Death  Valley  itself,  I  shall  remain  with  him.  Here 
he  comes  now — jump  in,  Father,  and  let's  be  going!" 

Mokava  spoke  to  the  lazy  burros.  They  moved 
off  at  a  snail's  gait  toward  the  desert.  The  old  wagon 
creaked  and  reeled  from  age  and  exposure  to  the 
weather.  Nevada  looked  back  once.  She  saw  Robert 
Ray  hurrying  along  the  street  toward  the  Mooring 
home. 

"Happy  Ruby!"  she  said,  lower  than  her  breath. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

FLOTSAM  AND  JETSAM  OF  THE  SANDS 

CHIEF  of  the  Land  of  Fire  sat  alone  in  his 
home.  He  called  it  his  wigwam.  It  was 
a  combination  of  house,  dugout  and  teepee. 
It  was  constructed  of  logs,  earth,  brush  and  cloth.  A 
square  nick  had  been  dug  into  the  side  of  a  mountain, 
and  above  and  around  this  had  been  built  the  home  of 
Chief  of  the  Land  of  Fire. 

Behind  towered  precipitous  mountains.  In  front 
rolled  the  sands  of  Death  Valley.  On  the  peaks  be 
hind  the  snows  never  melted.  On  the  wastes  in  front 
the  sands  never  cooled.  The  elevation  was  known  to 
the  Indians  as  the  Mountain  of  Ice.  The  plain  was 
called  the  Valley  of  Fire.  Chief  of  the  Land  of  Fire 
had  not  ascended  the  mountain  for  many  years. 
Neither  had  he  gone  out  into  the  plains. 

He  sat  in  the  same  place  throughout  the  day.  It 
had  been  a  sort  of  throne  in  its  time,  where  he  had 
ruled  many.  It  was  an  unstable  piece  of  patch-work 
now  where  he  still  sat  like  a  chief,  but  he  ruled  only 
three — his  two  sons  and  a  daughter.  The  seat  had  been 
a  chair  in  its  time.  What  was  left  of  the  original  indi 
cated  fine  material  and  good  workmanship.  A  few 
pieces  of  mahogany  were  still  held  together  by  a  variety 
of  materials.  Native  mountain  growths  supplied  miss 
ing  portions  of  the  furniture  and  they  were  bound  in 
place  with  rawhide,  buckskin,  strips  of  cloth  and  such 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     275 

other  aids  as  had  come  to  hand.  Each  repair  showed 
a  different  age,  and  the  carving  on  the  mahogany  was 
of  a  style  in  vogue  more  than  a  half  a  century  before. 
The  seat  was  cushioned  with  the  fragment  of  a  pelt 
of  a  mountain  sheep,  patched  with  the  soft  furs  of 
the  rabbit  and  the  weasel. 

Chief  of  the  Land  of  Fire  was  too  old  to  stir  from 
the  place.  He  was  so  old  that  no  one  longer  guessed 
at  his  age.  The  occasional  prospector  in  years  gone 
by  had  said  that  Chief  of  the  Land  of  Fire  must  be 
over  an  hundred.  If  appearances  should  enter  into 
the  indications  of  age,  Chief  of  the  Land  of  Fire 
would  pass  for  a  century  and  a  half. 

Though  so  stooped  and  crippled  by  time  that  he 
could  not  straighten  himself  or  leave  the  chair  with 
out  aid,  his  eyes  were  as  clear  as  youth  and  his 
memory  had  never  faded.  Fragmentary  evidences  of 
a  long  civilization,  other  than  the  traces  of  mahogany 
that  aided  to  support  his  body,  were  scattered  about 
the  place.  An  old-fashioned  clock  of  generations  back, 
and  which  had  not  run  for  perhaps  a  quarter  of  a  cen 
tury,  stood  in  the  corner  of  the  room  in  which  Chief 
of  the  Land  of  Fire  sat.  A  small  table,  with  two  legs 
of  the  original  manufacture  and  two  added  from 
mountain  saplings,  had  to  lean  against  the  wall  for 
support.  An  old  trunk  that  once  had  been  covered 
with  leather,  but  now  worn  deep  into  the  wood,  with 
strings  of  the  leather  only  hanging  from  about  the 
metal  fastenings,  sat  in  another  corner,  the  most 
precious  souvenir  of  a  far-distant  past.  Old  firearms, 
with  flint  and  steel  and  pan  devices  for  their  dis- 


276  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

charge,  adorned  the  walls  and  corners,  while  a  modern 
repeating  rifle  lay  in  the  rack  over  the  door. 

This  was  the  room  occupied  by  Chief  of  the  Land 
of  Fire.  It  was  a  log-built  portion  of  the  structure. 
Back  in  the  apartment  built  of  brush  and  earth,  and 
ragged  pieces  of  duck,  which  were  attached  to  long 
poles  that  stood  above  the  whole  like  the  dome  of 
a  teepee,  were  other  relics  of  the  time  of  those  in 
the  front  room.  Pots  and  pans,  worn  thin  with  use; 
parts  of  dishes  and  plates;  forks  with  one  prong,  and 
knives  ground  narrow  as  needles;  a  coffee-mill  nailed 
to  a  post,  whose  handle  had  not  been  turned  for  a 
score  of  years;  fragments  of  hand-painted  china  that 
had  once  been  a  cup,  saucer,  or  perhaps  a  dish  or  a 
plate ;  and  a  single  piece  of  glass,  which  was  bandaged 
together  like  a  victim  of  a  wreck,  hung  by  a  network 
of  strings  from  the  center-pole. 

An  aged  Indian  woman  moved  about  this  room  as 
crones  do.  She  was  apparently  busy,  but  did  not  ap 
pear  to  be  doing  anything. 

The  old  chief  constantly  shook  his  head  while  he 
murmured  in  a  shaky  voice.  It  was  his  way  of  giving 
emphasis  to  his  thoughts.  It  had  been  his  custom  for 
years.  He  could  not  distinguish  the  myriads  of  mem 
ories  that  crowded  his  brain,  the  one  from  the  other, 
without  giving  them  words  "for  his  own  ears. 

While  the  fragments  of  the  duck  lashed  at  the  tops 
of  the  poles  over  that  part  of  the  building  used  as  a 
kitchen,  from  the  gale  that  shook  the  place,  with  a 
sound  that  gave  the  impression  of  coolness  outside, 
in  reality  it  was  suffocatingly  hot.  The  wind  itself 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     277 

was  off  the  great  rows  of  restless,  sun-heated  sands 
that  piled  upon  each  other  like  waves  of  the  sea  for 
miles  out  in  the  front. 

The  old  chief  grew  more  restless  and  talked  even 
louder  to  himself  as  the  gusts  shook  the  place  more 
violently.  His  two  sons  were  overdue.  They  had 
started  out  early  to  overtake  a  truant  burro  that  had 
made  another  break  for  liberty.  The  animal  had  fre 
quently  attempted  to  cross  the  desert  and  return  to 
the  place  from  which  it  had  come  upon  them  of  its 
own  volition.  But  every  animal  and  thing  that  came 
upon  that  side  of  the  Valley  of  Fire  was  considered 
a  part  of  the  constant  flow  of  flotsam  and  jetsam  that 
of  right  belonged  to  the  Chief  of  the  Land  of  Fire. 

Though  the  sons  of  the  chief  were  experienced  in 
the  desert,  he  knew  that  no  living  thing  could  escape 
from  the  Valley  of  Fire  when  once  properly  within 
its  grasp.  It  had  been  a  place  of  destruction  and  death 
ever  since  the  chief  first  set  his  foot  upon  its  borders 
so  long  ago  that  he  could  no  longer  remember,  and 
every  time  his  sons  ventured  out  into  the  place  he 
had  no  rest  until  their  return.  The  sun  was  hotter 
than  was  usual  so  early  in  the  day  and  the  wind  was 
more  like  a  furnace-draft  than  it  had  been  for  many 
days.  The  time  for  the  return  of  the  men  had  passed. 
He  had  told  them  that  if  they  did  not  recover  the 
animal  before  the  heat  of  the  day  should  set  in  to 
come  without  it.  But  for  the  fact  that  his  legs  were 
old  and  bent  with  the  shape  of  the  patched  chair  upon 
which  he  sat  he  would  have  risen  and  gone  in  search 
of  the  young  men. 


278  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

But  he  was  finally  put  at  ease  by  hearing  their  ap 
proach.  He  was  surprised,  however,  when  they  en 
tered.  They  were  carrying  between  them  a  body  more 
dead  than  alive.  As  they  passed  through  the  room  of 
the  old  chief  and  entered  the  cavernous  place  in  the 
rear  which  was  used  as  a  bedroom,  he  was  unable  to 
tell  from  where  he  sat  whether  it  was  the  body  of  a 
man  or  woman  that  his  sons  carried,  so  torn  and 
lagged  was  the  clothing,  and  so  blistered  and  dis 
torted  were  the  limbs. 

The  men  called  to  the  squaw  and  she  brought  water 
and  cloths;  and  while  she  was  bathing  the  face  and 
body  of  the  unfortunate  the  sons  of  the  chief  were  also 
working  over  the  form.  One  soon  left  and  brought 
fresh  water  from  the  spring  and  the  other  was  using 
such  remedies  as  were  known  to  the  Indians  for  re 
storing  those  who  had  been  overcome  by  hunger,  heat 
and  thirst.  At  the  same  time  they  were  applying 
soothing  lotions  to  the  swollen  and  blistered  parts. 

Thus  they  worked  for  several  minutes  before  they 
spoke  to  their  father.  A  human  life  was  at  stake  and 
there  was  no  time  for  explanations.  They  had  brought 
others  in  before  from  the  desert,  and  many  had  passed 
away  after  they  thought  they  had  them  on  a  fair  way 
to  recovery. 

When  they  had  done  everything  that  was  known 
to  them  for  the  relief  of  the  unconscious  man  they 
turned  the  work  over  to  the  Indian  woman  and  went 
into  the  kitchen  and  ate.  They  hurried  through,  for 
they  knew  the  anxiety  of  their  father  to  learn  about 
the  details  of  the  adventure.  Such  things  always 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     279 

brought  new  life  into  that  desolate  place,  even  if  the 
unfortunate  victim  failed  to  survive.  It  afforded  new 
discussions  and  gossip  to  these  people  who  saw  so 
few  and  heard  so  little  outside  of  the  cry  of  the  coyote 
out  in  front  and  the  wail  of  the  mountain  lion  up  in 
the  rear. 

After  completing  their  meal,  Bill  came  to  the  side 
of  his  father,  and  Tom  went  on  to  perform  the  chores 
of  the  place,.  The  old  chief  had  given  his  sons  white 
names,  for  he  had  seen  more  white  men  since  they 
were  born  than  he  had  seen  of  his  own  race.  Bill  was 
the  oldest  son  and  would  succeed  his  father  as  chief. 

It,  therefore,  devolved  upon  him  always  to  impart 
to  his  father  such  information  as  he  desired. 

"We  did  not  find  the  burro,"  began  the  elder  son, 
in  his  father's  tongue.  "We  were  on  his  trail  but  he 
was  far  ahead  when  we  came  upon  the  tracks  of  the 
white  man.  You  have  always  taught  us,  Father,  that 
a  human  life  is  more  valuable  than  that  of  an  animal, 
even  if  the  animal  is  our  own  and  the  haman  being  is  a 
stranger. 

"The  white  stranger  is  in  a  bad  condition,  the  worst 
we  have  ever  brought  in.  He  had  traveled  on  foot 
many  days  and  nights,  doubtless,  for  his  shoes  were 
worn  from  his  feet  and  his  feet  and  body  are  a  mass 
of  sores  and  blisters.  His  feet  no  longer  look  like 
feet.  He  was  naked  to  the  waist  and  a  few  rags  only 
clung  to  his  body.  He  had  passed  through  the  sand 
dunes  near  the  salt-banks  just  ahead  of  us  when  we 
struck  the  trail.  It  was  still  fresh,  but  the  soft  sand 


280  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

filled  his  tracks  in  many  places  and  the  piles  of  sand 
obscured  the  view. 

"We  knew  that  he  had  lost  his  senses,  from  the 
trail  he  left  behind.  In  many  places  he  had  run  in  a 
circuitous  course  like  a  wounded  rabbit.  We  found 
him,  too,  by  accident.  We  had  reached  the  place 
known  as  the  whirling  sands  and  had  lost  his  trail.  We 
turned  back  and  found  his  body  in  a  most  peculiar  man 
ner.  It  was  almost  covered  by  the  drifting  sands  when 
we  saw  something  shining  like  glass  in  a  sand-bank. 
I  approached  and  it  was  the  reflection  of  the  sun  from 
his  glazed  eyes  which  were  sad  to  behold. 

"It  took  all  of  the  water  which  we  had  left  in  the 
canteens  to  revive  him  so  that  his  breathing  became 
regular.  He  could  not  swallow,  for  his  tongue  pro 
truded  far  out  of  his  mouth.  But  after  applying  the 
water  to  his  face  and  mouth  repeatedly  his  breathing 
justified  our  attempt  to  start  with  him.  We  placed 
him  on  the  big  burro,  and  while  one  led  the  other  had 
to  walk  by  his  side  and  hold  him  on.  We  had  to  stop 
often  and  fan  him  with  one  of  our  hats  while  the 
other  was  held  to  shade  his  face.  It  was  the  most 
tedious  work  we  have  ever  had  of  the  kind,  my 
father." 

"Call  your  brother,  I  want  to  see  the  man  before  he 
dies,"  said  the  old  chief. 

"He  is  horrible  to  look  upon,  Father,"  explained 
the  son. 

"Why  tell  me  this,  my  son  ?  Your  father,  who  has 
seen  them  by  the  score  often  at  a  time !  Your  father, 
when  no  older  than  yourself,  found  nearly  a  hundred 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     281 

strewn  along  the  desert  and  not  one  was  alive,  ex 
cept  a  mother  and  her  small  son,  a  baby  on  her  breast. 
Why,  boy,  there  were  never  such  sights  before  or 
since!  And  to  tell  your  father  that  the  face  of  one 
man  is  not  fit  for  him  to  look  upon!  I  shall  never 
forget  the  little  baby  boy  and  the  mother.  I  brought 
them  both  in.  She  lived  for  several  days  and  knew 
everything,  but  the  terrible  shock  finally  killed  her." 

"But  you  are  older  now,  Father,  and  such  sights 
are  not  good  for  you,"  remonstrated  the  son.  "The 
tongue  will  not  go  back  into  the  mouth  and  the  eyes 
look  as  if  they  are  blinded  forever.  The  face  is 
swollen  out  of  all  proportions." 

"Call  your  brother,"  demanded  the  chief.  "Do  you 
think  I  am  turning  squaw?" 

The  young  Indians  reluctantly  carried  their  father 
into  the  other  room  and  set  his  chair  by  the  side  of 
the  body  of  the  unconscious  man.  His  face  was  cov 
ered  with  the  wet  rags  which  the  Indian  woman  kept 
applying  to  the  swelling.  The  old  chief,  with  his  own 
hand,  removed  the  cloths.  He  looked  for  a  moment 
only  upon  the  face  with  doubt.  Then  he  bent  forward 
and  exclaimed  with  unsteady  voice: 

"Mokava!  Mokava!  My  white  son,  whom  I 
brought  when  a  baby  with  his  mother  from  the  Val 
ley  of  Fire !  He  is  paying  for  his  squaw !" 


CHAPTER  XXVI 
RAY  SEEKS  MOKAVA 

A  WEEK  had  passed  since  Mokava  and  Nevada 
left  for  the  desert.     Horatio  Stallings  had  got 
ten  the  consent  of  the  creditors  of  the  late  Andy 
Brush  to  turn  back  to  Mokava  his  home.     Stallings 
had  also  realized  on  properties  belonging  to  Mooring 
and  the  estate  of  Brush  a  sufficient  sum  to  pay  off  the 
depositors  of  the  bank,  including  Robert   Ray.     He 
was  also  corresponding  with  the  San  Francisco  credit 
ors  of  Mooring  and  Brush  for  a  settlement  of  the  last 
indebtedness  of  the  firm. 

The  San  Francisco  banking  company  had  foreclosed 
on  their  securities  and  bought  them  in  at  the  sale  un 
der  a  mistaken  idea  of  their  value,  and  reduced  the 
debt  to  less  than  one  hundred  thousand  dollars. 
Stallings  was  trying  to  get  them  to  accept  the  remain 
ing  stock  held  by  him  for  Mooring  and  the  estate  of 
Brush  in  full  settlement  of  the  indebtedness. 

Robert  Ray  had  insisted  that  Stallings  should  sat 
isfy  all  of  Mooring's  indebtedness,  even  should  it  take 
the  last  cent  of  Ray's  deposit,  which  was  still  in  Stall- 
ings'  keeping.  Stallings  and  Ruby  Mooring  still  kept 
the  bank  open  as  an  office  and  to  wind  up  the  odds  and 
ends  of  the  concern  that  dragged  along  unsettled. 

Robert  Ray  became  anxious  about  Mokava.  He 
had  expected  the  settler  to  return  within  a  few  days 
with  Nevada  and  his  squaw  wife  and  settle  down  at 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     283 

the  old  place.  He  had  also  planned  a  surprise  for 
Mokava,  in  which  he  expected  to  give  him  a  sum  of 
money  that  he  had  realized  on  a  claim  he  had  sold  in 
the  early  days  of  the  camp,  and  in  which  the  settler 
was  interested.  They  had  given  the  matter  up  as 
worthless. 

Robert  Ray  found  a  chauffeur  who  knew  the  desert 
and  who  informed  Ray  that  he  could  take  him  in  his 
machine  to  the  house  to  which  Mokava  and  Nevada 
had  followed  Tehana.  He  said  they  would  have  to 
go  a  roundabout  way,  but  he  could  reach  it  within 
a  day.  It  was  beyond  a  mountain  and  at  the  foot  on 
the  other  side  in  the  edge  of  Death  Valley,  but  the 
chauffeur  knew  of  a  route  through  a  pass  which  would 
enable  them  to  reach  the  place  with  comparative  ease. 
He  had  taken  two  promoters  to  the  place  two  months 
before,  who  contemplated  filing  on  the  water  rights  of 
Mokava's  old  spring,  but  they  had  decided,  after  in 
vestigating,  that  there  was  not  sufficient  flow. 

Ray  had  planned  to  leave  next  morning  and  called 
on  Ruby  Mooring  the  night  before  to  get  some  letters 
which  Ruby  had  taken  from  the  postoffice  for  Nevada, 
and  to  arrange  the  definite  date  of  his  marriage  to 
Ruby.  Miss  Eva  Martin,  the  teacher,  who  came  to 
live  with  Ruby  after  her  mother  left,  had  gone  to  her 
room  for  the  night  and  Ray  and  Ruby  had  the  parlor 
all  to  themselves. 

"Same  old  story,"  said  Ray;  "haven't  heard  from 
your  mother  yet?" 

"No;  I  do  not  understand  it,"  was  the  reply.  "She 
probably  has  not  heard  from  Father  and  is  doubtless 


284  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

waiting  to  hear  from  him  before  giving  me  an  answer. 
She  referred  to  things  in  that  letter  that  she  left  be 
hind  that  I  have  not  the  courage  to  undertake,  but  if 
I  don't  hear  from  her  by  the  time  you  return  from 
this  trip  I  will  act.  We  will  fix  the  date  then ;  it  mat 
ters  not  who  should  be  consulted.  I  will  take  the 
whole  responsibility." 

"It  strikes  me,  my  dear,  that  you  have  been  left 
on  your  own  responsibility  already,"  said  Ray,  in  a 
disappointed  tone.  "I  think  it  is  about  time  for  you  to 
decide  the  matter  for  yourself!" 

"I  place  myself  at  the  mercy  of  the  court,  as  your 
lawyer  said  the  other  day,"  replied  Ruby.  "You  shall 
be  the  court  and  make  the  decision.  If  you  are  dis 
pleased  with  my  desire  to  have  the  consent  of  either 
my  father  or  mother,  and  think  it  proper  to  abandon 
further  attempt  to  communicate  with  them,  then  I  am 
ready  now  to  fix  the  date;  let  you  name  it.  I  would 
marry  you  if  they  both  should  refuse,  but  I  did  wish 
to  obtain  their  consent  so  that  they  would  have  no 
excuse  to  throw  it  up  to  me  in  later  years.  But  you, 
Robert,  you  shall  decide!" 

"Well,  we  will  wait  for  a  reply  until  I  return,  little 
one,"  he  said.  "If  we  don't  hear  anything  by  that  time 
I  shall  insist  that  we  get  married  right  here  and  start 
away  at  once  on  our  honeymoon.  Stallings  can  give 
you  to  me !" 

"That  will  be  jolly,"  replied  Ruby  Mooring.  "Now, 
don't  fail  to  bring  Nevada  back  with  you.  Tell  her 
that  we  want  her  at  our  wedding.  Be  sure  and  give 
her  these  letters.  One  is  from  Amosa  and  the  other 


"YOURS,  ROBERT!"  SHE  REPLIED,  AS  HE  DREW  HER  CLOSER  TO 
HIM  AND  GAVE  HER  A  LONG,  PARTING  KISS. 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     285 

is  from  her  fiance,  Lansing.  I  know  the  handwriting 
of  both.  This  is  the  scrawling  hand  of  Amosa  and 
this  is  the  smooth  writing  of  the  engineer.  She  has 
shown  me  their  writing  before." 

"And  she  and  Tom  Lansing  will  get  married  some 
day,"  said  Ray. 

"I  suppose  so,  but  she  doesn't  seem  to  care  much 
for  him,"  replied  Ruby.  "She  doesn't  care  to  talk 
about  him,  while  I  want  to  talk  about  you  all  of  the 
time — to  my  close  friends!  Am  I  not  silly?" 

"We  egotistical  men  like  such  silliness,  little  fidgity 
— now,  remember,  you  will  become  mine  for  all  time, 
and  forever,  just  as  soon  as  I  get  back,  letters  or  no 
letters,  consent  or  no  consent,  mine!"  said  Ray,  softly. 

"Yours,  Robert !"  she  replied,  as  he  drew  her  closer 
to  him  than  ever  before,  arid  gave  her  a  long  parting 
kiss.  ***** 

It  had  been  a  long  day  on  the  desert.  But  the  auto 
mobile  which  carried  Robert  Ray  had  been  made  for 
the  rough  usage  of  the  country,  and  they  were  gliding 
down  the  side  of  the  mountain  before  sunset  with  the 
little  rock  house  of  Mokava  nestling  near  the  spring 
which  bubbled  out  of  the  side  of  the  elevation. 

Nevada  came  out  of  the  house  with  a  sad  look  upon 
her  face.  But  she  gave  a  smile  of  relief  when  she  saw 
her  father's  friend. 

"Here  are  letters,"  said  Robert  Ray.  "Cheer  up — 
there's  one  from  Lansing!  Oh,  I  know  his  handwrit 
ing,"  he  continued.  "And  there  is  one  from  Amosa. 
I  have  lots  of  good  news — where  is  Mokava?  Did 
you  find  Tehana  tired  of  waiting?" 
10 


286  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

"I  have  been  here  three  days  alone,"  replied  Nevada. 
"Mother  was  not  here  when  we  arrived,  but  she  had 
been  here.  We  found  the  tracks  of  the  burro;  and  she 
had  made  fires  and  prepared  several  meals.  Father 
waited  a  day  and  night  for  her  to  return  and  then 
started  out  to  look  for  her.  He  has  been  gone  so  long 
that  I  am  terribly  worried.  I  fear  they  both  are  lost!" 

"Where  was  she  likely  to  have  gone?"  asked  Ray. 
•  "She  may  have  attempted  to  go  to  her  old  home, 
her  father's  place,"  explained  Nevada.  "She  had  not 
heard  from  him  for  many  years.  He  was  very  old 
then.  He  has  doubtless  passed  away.  He  lived  at  the 
foot  of  the  high  mountain  over  on  the  other  side  of 
Death  Valley  yonder.  He  was  called  Chief  of  the 
Land  of  Fire.  A  very  peculiar  name,  but  the  Indians 
name  everything  and  everybody  in  their  own  way.  It 
was  an  appropriate  name  for  Grandfather,  for  he  has 
lived  on  the  borders  of  Death  Valley  for  nearly  a  cen 
tury,  if  he  is  still  living,  and  the  country  is  known  as 
the  Land  of  Fire,  because  of  its  terrible  heat.  I  can 
not  account  for  Mother  returning  to  the  place,  for  she 
and  Grandfather  were  estranged  since  she  and  Father 
married,  because  Father  would  not  pay  for  her — but 
you  remember  the  old  tribal  legend? 

"Oh,  it  looks  of  late  as  if  I  shall  be  compelled  to 
believe  in  that  old  legend — so  much  has  happened 
to  us!" 

Nevada  hurried  dinner  for  the  two  men.  They  had 
brought  along  a  lot  of  fresh  supplies  and  these,  with 
those  Mokava  had  on  hand,  enabled  the  girl  to  prepare 
a  meal  that  was  enjoyable  in  the  desert.  After  they 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     287 

were  through  and  she  had  cleared  away  the  dishes 
Robert  Ray  suggested  that  he  and  the  chauffeur  should 
go  to  bed  early,  so  that  they  might  get  out  in  search 
for  Mokava  and  his  wife  while  it  was  cool  next  morn 
ing. 

Nevada  prepared  a  bed  in  the  house  for  the  two  men 
and  went  out  into  the  teepee  which  had  been  pitched 
by  Mokava  near  the  spring,  to  spend  the  night.  She 
opened  the  letters  which  Ray  had  brought  and  began 
to  read  the  one  from  Amosa  first.  After  reading  the 
introductory  portion  her  face  began  to  assume  a  wor 
ried  expression,  and  it  looked  more  disturbed  as  she 
proceeded. 

"Things  have  gone  bad  here,  too,  dear  sister,"  the 
letter  ran.  "I  do  not  know  what  to  do  or  say.  Grant 
has  run  away  from  school.  He  heard  of  the  way  they 
treated  poor  Father  about  the  home  and  said  he  would 
get  revenge.  He  said  he  would  burn  the  house  before 
they  should  keep  it.  And  since  he  left  we  have  read  in 
the  papers  about  Father  being  in  jail  for  killing  Andy 
Brush.  When  Grant  learns  this  he  will  do  something 
terrible.  Of  course,  he  will  know  as  we  all  do,  that 
Father  is  not  guilty.  It  must  be  some  kind  of  a 
trumped  up  charge  by  that  fellow  Mooring. 

"But  keep  a  lookout  for  Grant.  See  him  before  he 
does  anything,  if  possible,  and  try  to  persuade  him  out 
of  the  notion.  You  can  do  more  with  him,  Nevada, 
than  anyone  else.  He  went  so  far  as  to  say  that  he 
would  kill  Mooring  and  burn  the  town.  You  know 
he  has  not  gotten  over  being  turned  out  of  school  that 
morning." 


288  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

After  a  long  silence  she  took  up  the  letter  of  Lan 
sing.  Under  ordinary  circumstances  she  would  have 
turned  to  this  letter  first,  but  her  grief  led  her  to  think 
first  of  the  immediate  family  affairs.  But  her  anger 
rose  almost  at  the  first  line  of  Lansing's  letter  and 
when  she  had  finished  her  dark  eyes  flashed  with  re 
sentment. 

"I  came  to  see  you  and  you  had  left,  knowing  that  I 
would  be  here  in  a  few  days,  without  even  writing  me," 
ran  the  letter.  "You  are  taking  too  much  interest  in 
your  family's  affairs,  and  always  have.  As  soon  as  a 
girl  becomes  engaged  to  a  man  she  should  consult  him 
in  all  matters.  He  should  begin  to  advise  her  then  and 
get  her  in  line  with  his  idea  of  thinking  to  save 
trouble  in  the  future. 

"Your  training  has  been  such,  or  ought  to  have 
been  such,  that  you  should  understand  that  the  man 
is  the  lord  of  his  home;  he  is  everything,  and  the 
woman  should  bend  her  ways  to  fit  his  whims.  I  be 
lieve  that  is  the  way  your  mother's  side  of  the 
house,  at  least,  consider  things;  and,  as  your  father 
was  reared  in  the  same  family,  your  inherited  inclina 
tions  as  well  as  your  teaching  ought  to  enable  you  to 
understand  this.  I  believe  in  the  old  law  of  the  man 
assuming  the  head  of  the  family  as  its  real  lord  and 
master,  and  not  in  the  modern  idea  that  woman  will 
submit  to  this  when  it  pleases  and  rebel  when  it  does 
not. 

"I  feel  that  I  have  made  sacrifices  enough  by  for 
getting  your  family  tree,  and  some  of  the  disagreeable 
things  surrounding  the  home,  without  making  so  many 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     289 

others.  To  be  plain,  either  cut  out  those  home  people 
or  cut  me  out.  A  woman's  heart  is  not  large  enough 
to  hold  a  place  for  her  husband  and  carry  the  troubles 
of  her  family  besides.  And,  what  about  that  Rob  Ray 
stuff  in  the  newspapers?  I  am  told  that  you  left  here 
with  him  directly  after  the  article  appeared!" 

Nevada  thought  of  trying  to  sleep  at  first,  but  she 
found  that  she  could  not  sleep  with  such  a  letter  un 
answered.  She  wrote  the  answer,  stamped  and  ad 
dressed  it  at  the  time  so  that  she  would  be  certain  not 
to  forget  to  give  it  to  Robert  Ray  to  mail  for  her. 

The  letter  was  brief  and  two  extracts  will  show 
how  she  disposed  of  Thomas  Lansing: 

"I  have  never  thought  that  you  cared  for  me  in  the 
way  that  I  was  supposed  to  consider  it.  I  know  that 
I  have  never  cared  for  you  as  I  should  for  the  man 
whom  I  expected  to  marry.  I  was  under  obligation  to 
you,  and  am  still,  I  suppose.  You  aided  me  to  enter 
the  Indian  school.  You  really  suggested  it,  I  believe, 
and  your  intentions  were  doubtless  of  the  best.  I  am 
not  ungrateful  for  this,  though  I  wish  I  had  never 
heard  of  civilization !  I  would  not  have  known  of  the 
trouble  that  awaited  me,  and  is  now  upon  me.  At 
least,  I  would  certainly  have  not  felt  it  as  keenly  as 
I  do  now.  I  do  not  believe  we  owe  you  anything  in 
dollars  and  cents,  and  if  we  did,  it  would  be  very  un 
fortunate,  for  we  are  in  most  desperate  financial  straits, 
though  Mr.  Ray  is  trying  to  aid  Father,  as  usual. 

"As  to  our  engagement,  it  has  not  gone  so  far  that 
I  shall  hold  it  binding  on  you.  And  as  for  myself,  I 
shall  resort  to  that  old  legend  of  Mother's  tribe, 


290  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

•which  holds  that  a  suitor  must  offer  a  price  and  pay  it 
for  his  squaw.  You  have  not  paid  for  me,  and  I  now, 
on  behalf  of  my  father,  declare  the  transaction  closed ! 
As  to  the  reference  to  Mr.  Ray,  I  may  as  well  relieve 
your  mind  on  the  subject  once  and  for  all.  I  can 
assure  you  that  he  never  has  thought  of  me  as  a  sweet 
heart.  He  loves  Ruby  Mooring  and  she  loves  him. 
They  will  get  married  very  soon.  That  newspaper 
item  was  an  invention  of  the  editor's  brain." 

All  were  aroused  next  morning  by  loud  knocking 
at  the  door  of  the  house.  When  Robert  Ray  opened  the 
door  he  found  a  young  Indian  waiting,  and  the  burro 
which  he  had  ridden  was  standing  near.  The  native 
tried  in  his  own  tongue  to  explain  to  Ray.  But  failing 
in  this  he  said  in  broken  English : 

"Mokava,  he  almost  dead!   Where  Tehana?" 


CHAPTER  XXVII 
THE  LAND  OF  FIRE 

TT  O  W  are  you  fixed  for  oil  and  gasoline,  Mr. 
I — I  Chauffeur?"  asked  Robert  Ray. 
•*-  A  "All  right — I  was  caught  on  the  desert 
once  without  either  gasoline,  oil  or  water,  and  that  was 
sufficient.  Ever  since  I  have  carried  a  cargo  of  each 
on  a  trip  like  this !" 

Nevada  had  come  to  the  rescue  of  Ray  as  soon  as 
she  was  dressed  and  had  gotten  the  details  of  the  mes 
senger's  story.  It  was  Bill,  the  oldest  son  of  the  Chief 
of  the  Land  of  Fire.  He  told  about  finding  the  body 
in  the  sands  two  days  before,  and  of  the  things  that 
occurred  after  the  rescue.  He  said  that  the  man  was 
better  the  next  morning,  but  he  could  neither  talk  nor 
see.  He  kept  making  signs  to  the  effect  that  he  had 
left  somebody  or  something  behind,  and  wanted  some 
one  to  go  in  search. 

Smoke  had  been  seen  that  morning  curling  in  the 
form  of  a  spire  high  in  the  sky  above  the  place  where 
Mokava  had  once  lived — the  house  which  the  mes 
senger  had  now  reached — and  the  Chief  of  the  Land 
of  Fire  interpreted  it  as  a  sign  of  the  return  of 
Mokava  and  Tehana  to  the  old  home.  He  also  con 
cluded  that  after  their  return  Mokava  had  decided  to 
visit  him  and  had  lost  his  way  on  the  desert.  The 
Chief  of  the  Land  of  Fire  was  desirous  that  the  un 
fortunate  condition  of  Mokava  should  be  reported  to 


292  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

Tehana.  He  knew  that  the  victim  could  live  only  for 
a  few  days,  at  best,  and  had  consented  under  such 
urgent  circumstances  that  Bill  might  bear  the  message 
to  Tehana.  Under  no  other  condition  would  he  have 
permitted  his  successor  as  chief  to  brave  the  sands  of 
the  Land  of  Fire. 

When  asked  by  Nevada  if  there  was  any  way  to 
reach  the  place  in  the  automobile,  Bill  said  a  wagon 
could  make  it  around  the  south  end  of  the  desert  and 
reach  the  place  in  three  days.  He  said  the  wind  was 
now  blowing  the  sand  from  the  foot  of  the  mountains 
on  that  side  and  that  the  ground  would  be  bare  until 
the  wind  changed.  But  he  shook  his  head  and  grinned 
when  he  looked  at  the  automobile.  He  had  never  seen 
one  before,  and  he  had  his  doubts  about  such  a  thing 
being  drawn  over  there  by  burros  in  any  way. 

Nevada,  with  the  aid  of  the  Indian,  pointed  out  to 
Ray  and  the  chauffeur  about  where  the  home  of  the 
Chief  of  the  Land  of  Fire  was  situated.  Bill  directed 
their  attention  to  a  landmark  high  up  on  the  mountain 
and  told  them  that  his  home  was  on  a  straight  line 
beneath  it,  behind  the  great  bosom  of  the  desert  which 
bulged  out  on  the  horizon  like  the  skyline  of  the  sea. 

"Tell  him  to  leave  his  burro  and  get  in  the  auto  and 
pilot  us,"  instructed  Ray. 

"He  says  he  can't  do  without  the  burro;  that  they 
have  just  lost  one,"  explained  Nevada,  after  talking 
with  the  Indian.  "He  says  that  all  we  have  to  do  is 
follow  the  foot  of  the  mountain  around  the  circle  of 
the  desert  to  reach  the  place;  that  we  can't  miss  the 
way." 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     293 

"Tell  him  I  will  give  this  for  his  burro,  and  he  may 
leave  the  animal  here  with  the  chance  of  getting  him 
again,"  said  Ray,  showing  a  twenty-dollar  gold  piece. 

Bill's  eyes  bulged  with  surprise.  Then  he  turned 
and  looked  at  the  automobile  for  a  moment  with  sus 
picion.  But  after  Nevada  had  explained  about  the 
machine  and  how  it  was  being  universally  used  he 
reached  out  greedily  for  the  money  and  took  it. 
Nevada  explained  that  it  was  the  first  time  the  Indian 
had  ever  seen  so  much  money  before,  and  while  he 
was  very  much  in  doubt  about  them  being  able  to  make 
the  trip  in  the  automobile  he  had  decided  to  take  a 
chance. 

In  the  meantime  the  chauffeur  had  secured  a  supply 
of  water,  and  with  the  guide  to  his  right  and  Nevada 
and  Robert  Ray  in  the  rear  seat,  he  pulled  out  for  the 
trip  around  the  desert.  It  was  like  circling  a  blind  bay 
of  the  ocean,  where  the  centuries  of  sea  have  cut  into 
the  land.  Though  it  presents  the  outward  appearance 
of  a  safe  harbor,  the  mariner  who  accepts  the  invita 
tion  from  a  storm  is  likely  to  go  with  his  craft  to  de 
struction. 

They  hugged  the  shore  to  their  left  and  made  good 
headway  in  the  beginning.  They  found  that  the 
Indian  was  right  about  the  wind  favoring  them,  at 
least  for  the  first  few  hours.  Outside  of  the  difficulty 
of  getting  around  the  sloping  rocks  that  extended 
themselves  into  the  plain  from  the  mountains  like 
huge  roots  from  a  tree,  they  met  with  few  obstacles 
until  the  approach  of  noon.  The  wind  was  carrying 


294  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

the  tide  of  restless  sands  steadily  back  to  the  great  sea 
of  their  kind  to  the  right. 

But  with  the  approach  of  noon  the  wind  began  to 
change  and  increase  its  force,  and  the  circular  course 
which  they  were  following  had  brought  them  more 
directly  in  its  teeth.  Their  trouble  soon  began.  The 
hot  sands  and  sweltering  rocks  were  yielding  so  much 
of  their  heat  as  the  burdened  gusts  would  accept  and 
the  travelers  were  subjected  to  a  blast  not  unlike  that 
which  comes  from  a  furnace.  Another  turn  of  the 
coast-like  trail  and  they  were  facing,  directly,  the  gale 
of  alkali  dust  and  sand. 

To  the  right  the  sand  dunes  appeared  to  move,  by 
reason  of  the  disturbance  of  their  surface  by  the  wind, 
and  the  whole  presented  a  succession  of  variegated 
objects  and  shadows  not  unlike  the  billows  of  a  storm- 
swept  sea.  Upon  these  danced  sand-pillars  and  twist 
ers,  standing,  quivering  for  a  time  in  place  and  then 
jumping  to  another  point  like  a  flash,  always  subject  to 
the  vagaries  of  the  unsettled  gusts. 

Then  a  heavier  gale  than  usual  would  hurry  them 
over  against  the  shore  of  rocks,  and  they  would  break 
and  scatter  and  fall  to  the  ground  in  layers,  building, 
building  dunes  until  the  wind  should  change  and  take 
them  back  to  the  ocean  of  sands  again.  This  might 
begin  within  an  hour,  a  day,  or  a  week,  or  even  longer 
time,  but  it  would  come;  and  the  sands  were  buffeted 
back  and  forth  in  this  manner  as  they  had  been  day  in 
and  day  out,  week  in  and  week  out,  month  in  and 
month  out,  since  time  had  reached  this  process  in  the 
course  of  the  eternal. 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     295 

Deeper  and  deeper  the  thin  layers  grew  at  the  base 
of  the  shoreline,  like  a  tide  coming  in  from  the  sea, 
until  the  chauffeur  found  it  difficult  to  make  headway. 
At  times  his  motor  balked  at  the  weight  of  the  ma 
chine  whose  tires  sank  until  the  rims  were  hidden  in 
the  grinding,  heated  sands.  At  times  he  could  move 
on  by  loosing  the  power  in  reserve.  At  others  he  had 
to  lay  blankets,  which  he  always  brought  for  the  pur 
pose  when  he  came  into  the  desert,  along  the  ground 
in  rolls  in  front  of  the  wheels  before  he  could  drive 
over  the  growing  dunes.  In  this  way  he  was  able  to 
travel  by  slow  stages.  Then  he  was  balked  by  high 
drifts  where  the  blankets  sunk  under  the  weight  of 
the  car  and  he  had  to  resort  to  shovels  to  extricate 
them. 

Then  a  turn  around  the  point  of  a  cape  which  ex 
tended  into  the  sea  of  sand  and  they  were  again  on 
the  clean-swept  earth.  The  wind  had  been  friendly 
here  and  cleared  their  way  as  clean  as  a  floor.  The 
machine  would  dash  away  like  an  animal  suddenly 
unleashed  and  glide  along  like  a  dream,  until  another 
turn  brought  them  in  contact  with  the  wind  and  sand 
again. 

The  sand  was  deeper  each  time  and  hotter  from  the 
more  direct  rays  of  the  midday  sun.  The  blasts  of 
the  wind  came  like  a  steady  flame  on  the  bare  hands 
and  faces  of  the  party,  and  the  heated  grains  of  sand 
burned  like  coals.  But  in  the  midst  of  it  all  Nevada 
was  composed,  even  talkative. 

"I  was  told  at  school  by  descendants  of  the  better 
tribes  why  this  is  called  the  Land  of  Fire  by  the 


296  THE  TOLL  OK  THE  SANDS 

Indians,"  said  Nevada,  as  they  rested  at  noon.  "But 
I  have  never  properly  understood  it  before.  I  thought 
most  of  the  descriptions  of  this  place  were  a  myth — 
that  it  was  like  other  desert  countries.  Now  I  appre 
ciate  its  name  and  why  my  grandfather  is  called  the 
chief  of  this  desolate  region. 

"In  olden  times,"  she  continued,  after  recalling 
what  she  had  heard,  "according  to  Indian  legend,  or 
history,  as  they  hand  these  things  down  by  word  of 
mouth  from  generation  to  generation,  it  was  a  cus 
tom  of  many  tribes  when  a  member  became  unfit,  by 
reason  of  crime  or  other  violation  of  the  unwritten 
laws  or  customs  of  the  tribe,  to  continue  with  his 
people,  to  banish  him  to  this,  the  country  known  as 
the  Land  of  Fire.  It  was  extreme  and  perpetual  pun 
ishment.  So  long  as  he  should  remain  here  he  was 
not  subject  to  any  other  penalties.  But  should  he  re 
turn  he  was  put  to  death. 

"The  story  goes  that  many  tired  of  the  place  after 
different  periods  and  returned  and  accepted  the  death 
penalty  rather  than  remain  here.  I  can  now  under 
stand  why  they  did  this." 

"I  agree  with  the  judgment  of  those  who  went  home 
and  took  their  medicine,"  smiled  Ray,  whose  tongue 
was  so  thick  from  the  heat  that  he  could  barely  articu 
late.  "I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  continued,  "but  this 
old  chief,  your  mother's  father,  I  believe,  must  have 
handed  down  some  of  his  determination  to  you." 

"My  grandfather  was  doubtless  driven  here  for 
some  tribal  offense,  but  I  shall  now  feel  forgiving 
toward  him.  He  has  long  since  atoned  for  whatever 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     297 

he  did.  He  has  outlived  all  of  those  who  knew  him 
in  his  younger  days.  He  has  been  old  ever  since  those 
now  living  can  remember.  After  nearly  a  century  in 
this  place  he  deserves  to  be  acquitted  of  further  pun 
ishment,  unless  his  crime  is  of  greater  enormity  than 
any  of  which  I  have  heard,  either  in  the  books  of  the 
white  men  or  among  the  Indians.  Then  he  is  said  to 
have  saved  many  lives  from  those  hot,  seething  sands 
over  there,  and  that  should  count  for  something.  My 
own  father  owes  his  life  to  him." 

Shortly  after  they  started  out  again  they  came  upon 
another  wind-swept  strip  of  ground.  The  automobile 
was  stopped  with  a  jerk.  Robert  Ray  looked  out  to 
ascertain  the  cause  and  saw  the  driver  looking  at  a 
dark  object  projecting  partially  from  the  sands.  It 
was  to  the  right  and  near  Ray,  and  he  got  out  and 
drew  the  object  from  the  dune. 

"That  is  Mother's  rifle!"  exclaimed  Nevada  in  a 
tense  voice.  "My  dear,  dear  old  Mother !  She  would 
not  have  abandoned  the  gun  except  in  the  direst  straits. 
Let  us  get  out  and  make  search.  We  may  find  some 
trace  of  her.  Oh,  that  she  may  have  been  fortunate 
enough  to  escape  these  terrible  sands!" 

They  all  alighted  and  searched  the  place  in  every 
direction,  but  found  no  other  sign  of  the  missing 
Indian  woman.  The  sand  had  been  swept  back  and 
forth  until  it  had  obliterated  all  evidences  of  her  trail. 
But  all  people  of  the  desert  knew  of  the  uncertainty  of 
the  course  taken  by  one  stricken  by  thirst  and  heat. 
After  beginning  to  discard  whatever  burdens  they  may 
be  carrying  they  often  wander  on  for  miles  before 


298  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

falling.  And  they  knew  that  the  Indian  woman,  if 
she  had  become  separated  from  her  burro,  was  just  as 
likely  to  have  started  toward  the  center  of  the  desert 
as  any  other  direction,  after  she  had  abandoned  the 
rifle. 

"You  never  saw  that  rifle  before,"  explained 
Nevada,  in  a  sad  voice,  after  they  had  started  out 
again.  "Very  few  people  ever  saw  it.  Mother  always 
kept  it  in  the  tepee.  She  had  it  for  many  years.  It  is 
of  the  old  rim-fire  make,  you  will  see.  Father  had  a 
great  deal  of  trouble  in  getting  cartridges  to  fit  it. 
Mother  seldom  used  it,  but  she  was  a  dead  shot. 
Father  would  not  contest  with  her,  though  he  is  an 
excellent  marksman  himself.  She  could  come  nearer 
the  mark  than  he,  even  when  she  did  not  hit  the  cross. 
Dear  old  mother !" 

Ray  had  been  examining  the  rifle  and  casually 
ejected  from  it  an  empty  shell.  Tehana  had  doubtless 
fired  it  at  the  last  extremity  to  attract  anyone  who 
might  be  in  hearing.  Then  she  had  cast  it  aside  and 
wandered  on.  He  placed  the  shell  in  his  pocket  and 
heard  it  jingle  against  another.  He  took  the  two  out. 
They  were  exact  mates.  The  one  already  in  his  pocket 
had  been  introduced  as  evidence  at  his  and  Mokava's 
trial.  He  had  found  it  at  the  rear  of  the  old  adobe  the 
morning  after  the  killing  of  Brush. 

They  reached  the  home  of  the  Chief  of  the  Land  of 
Fire  just  before  sunset.  They  were  rounding  the  last 
point  of  rock  which  brought  them  in  view  of  the  house, 
when  Bill,  the  guide,  pointed  to  a  little  cove  on  the 
left  and  shook  his  head.  The  others  looked  and  they 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     299 

saw  a  new-made  mound  of  earth.  It  had  been  rounded 
off  within  the  last  few  hours. 

"He  dead !"  said  the  Indian,  as  the  automobile  came 
to  a  halt. 

"And  we  have  lost  both  Father  and  Mother !"  mur 
mured  Nevada.  "Poor  little  Grant  and  Amosa!"  she 
continued,  repressing  a  tremor  that  would  have  shaken 
the  whole  body  of  a  woman  less  able  to  control  her 
emotion. 

The  chauffeur  drove  the  automobile  slowly  to  the 
front  of  the  quaint  old  place  of  abode.  They  had 
scarcely  stopped  when  Mokava  came  out  and  greeted 
them! 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 
DISCLOSURES  OF  Two  WRITINGS 

THE  body  of  John  Mooring  had  been  buried  in 
the   little   cove   by  Mokava    and   Indian    Tom. 
Mokava  had  come  to  the  end  of  his  fruitless 
search  a  few  minutes  after  John  Mooring  had  passed 
away.    He  had  found  no  difficulty  in  identifying  the 
body  of  Mooring.    The  latter  had  passed  thru  a  ter 
rible  ordeal  while  lost  in  the  desert,  and  the  heat  of 
the  weather  made  it  necessary  to  bury  him  as  quickly 
as  possible. 

Mooring  had  revived  in  the  last  struggle  of  life, 
which  comes  often  just  before  death,  and  for  a  short 
time  was  in  possession  of  his  senses.  He  tried  to 
speak,  but  his  tongue  and  lips  were  a  swollen  mass. 
He  tried  to  look  about  him,  but  his  eyes  had  been  de 
prived  of  their  sight  in  the  glare  of  the  desert,  and  by 
the  flying  sands.  He  then  motioned  his  hands  as  if 
he  would  write.  But  there  was  no  material  for  his 
use.  Then  he  seemed  to  recollect  and  picked  feebly  at 
an  object  tied  with  a  string  on  the  inside  of  the  frag 
ment  of  a  garment  which  he  still  wore. 

This  was  untied  and  removed  by  Indian  Tom.  It 
was  a  faded  package  and  had  writing  on  the  outside, 
directing  that  it  should  be  opened  upon  his  death.  It 
was  given  to  the  dying  man.  He  clutched  it  with  a 
contented  look  for  an  instant,  then  his  grip  relaxed. 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     301 

This  was  followed  by  a  convulsion  and  he  passed  to 
his  reward. 

It  was  while  the  Chief  of  the  Land  of  Fire  was 
mourning  him  as  his  adopted  Mokava  that  the  real 
Mokava  appeared  and  identified  the  body  of  the  dead 
banker.  The  aged  chief  then  explained  the  arrival  of 
his  sons  with  the  unconscious  Mooring,  the  subsequent 
discovery  of  smoke  in  the  sky  above  the  old  habitation 
of  Mokava,  and  the  sending  of  Bill  to  notify  Tehana 
should  she  be  found  there.  Mokava  knew  that  as  soon 
as  Nevada  should  receive  the  news  she  would  attempt 
to  come  to  the  place.  He  had  done  the  only  thing  left 
for  him — waited. 

Night  had  set  in.  The  meal  which  had  been  pre 
pared  by  Nevada  from  the  supplies  brought  along 
with  them  was  over  and  they  were  seated  outside  the 
house  in  order  to  get  the  benefit  of  the  night  breeze. 
The  old  chief  had  been  brought  out  in  his  chair,  and 
he  and  Mokava  were  talking  in  the  Indian  tongue. 
Robert  Ray  and  Nevada  were  sitting  near  the  light 
issuing  from  one  of  the  lamps  of  the  automobile.  Ray 
had  asked  to  see  the  package  which  had  been  taken 
from  the  dead  banker.  They  brought  the  wrapper  and 
the  contents.  Indian  curiosity  had  led  them  into  open 
ing  it  as  soon  as  Mooring  died. 

Ray  recognized  the  wrapper  at  once  as  the  one  on 
the  package  that  Ruby  Mooring  had  dropped  when  he 
met  her  at  the  Oakland  train.  It  stated  that  it  should 
only  be  opened  at  the  death  of  Mooring,  and  since  he 
was  dead,  Ray  handed  the  writing  to  Nevada.  She 
held  it  near  the  automobile  light  and  read: 


302  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

"I  have  lived  thru  life  under  an  assumed  name. 
In  order  to  do  justice  to  those  who  may  have  been 
wronged  by  my  acts  I  am  leaving  this  statement.  My 
real  name  is  not  Mooring.  My  mother  and  father 
died  on  the  plains  while  crossing  when  I  was  a  baby. 
Members  of  the  immigrant  party  took  me  and  raised 
me.  I  was  given  their  name — Mooring.  But  I  took 
my  right  name  after  I  grew  up  and  was  married  under 
it.  Then  I  got  into  financial  trouble  when  my  wife 
was  about  to  become  a  mother.  I  took  her  to  a  ma 
ternity  hospital  and  left  the  country.  She  died,  but 
the  baby  lived.  I  never  learned  whether  it  was  a  girl 
or  boy.  I  then  changed  my  name  back  to  Mooring. 
That  was  just  before  I  met  Annette.  My  real  name 
is  John  Collins.  John  Collins,  alias  John  Mooring." 

Robert  Ray  rose  to  his  feet.  He  walked  back  and 
forth  as  one  stunned.  He  strolled  farther  and  farther 
as  he  turned  about  until  he  found  himself  in  front  of 
the  little  cove  that  contained  the  new-made  grave. 
Back  and  forth  he  strode.  At  times  he  paused  as  if  he 
would  go  and  tear  the  body  from  the  mound.  Then 
he  stopped  and  trembled  as  if  he  would  fall  upon  the 
grave  and  weep. 

"Oh,  God  of  Heaven!"  he  finally  cried,  "John  Moor 
ing  was  my  father!  Collins  was  my  mother's  name; 
that  was  the  manner  in  which  she  was  left.  I  was  the 
baby  that  survived  her !  I  was  given  the  name  of  the 
people  who  adopted  me.  And  Ru — by!  Ru — by  is 
my  half-sister!" 

It  was  early  the  following  morning.  The  night  had 
wakened  the  memory  of  the  Indian  chief  for 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     303 

more  than  half  a  century  back.  The  explana 
tion  of  Mooring's  writing  had  recalled  another 
writing  to  the  memory  of  the  old  Indian  which 
had  been  scrawled  at  his  home  in  the  years 
gone  by.  He  called  for  the  worn  old  trunk  and 
had  it  brought  and  placed  on  a  level  by  his  side. 
After  a  long  search  he  brought  out  a  package  of  let 
ters  and  papers.  He  separated  them  and  looked  at 
them  one  by  one  as  he  passed  over  them.  Though  he 
could  neither  read  nor  write  he  appeared  to  know 
each  one  by  some  peculiar  mark  which  he  had  placed 
upon  it,  which  he  had  retained  in  his  memory  all  of 
these  years.  Finally  he  took  one  from  the  others  and 
gave  it  to  Nevada. 

He  explained  that  before  the  mother  of  Mokava 
had  died,  she,  too,  had  written.  She  had  not  been  so 
weak  as  Mooring  when  she  was  rescued,  but  had  lived 
several  days.  The  writing  was  in  ink.  With  her  and 
the  child,  Mokava,  the  trunk  and  the  other  belongings 
of  the  immigrants  had  been  recovered.  All  of  the 
things  in  the  house  had  been  brought  in  from  the 
desert  from  time  to  time.  But  so  dim  was  the  writing 
that  in  places  the  imprint  of  the  pen  only  remained. 
But  Nevada  soon  proceeded  to  read : 

"May  the  Lord  provide  for  my  children  and  bless 
these  kind  Indians.  I  cannot  continue  the  struggle 
much  longer,  and  I  leave  this  as  a  record  for  my  dar 
ling  babies,  should  they  survive.  I  was  found  by  these 
kind  people  with  my  baby,  William,  after  the  other 
members  of  our  party  had  perished.  My  husband  had 
passed  away  shortly  after  we  started  out  and  my 


304  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

other  baby,  Johnny,  the  twin  brother  of  William,  had 
been  taken  by  another  family,  by  the  name  of  Moor 
ing.  I  was  too  weak  to  care  for  both  of  the  children. 
It  was  after  the  immigrant  wagons  became  separated 
that  all  of  our  party  perished  except  baby  William  and 
me.  May  this  some  day  reach  the  eyes  of  some  one 
who  can  read  it,  is  my  prayer.  Mary  Collins." 

"Why,  Mooring  was  your  brother!"  exclaimed 
Nevada  to  her  father. 

"And  you  and  Robert  cousins,"  said  Mokava, 
proudly. 

Robert  Ray  again  arose  and  left  the  place  after  the 
reading  of  the  dying  woman's  letter.  He  was  climb 
ing  about  the  mountain  in  the  rear  of  the  home  of  the 
old  chief,  in  a  state  of  mental  abstraction.  The  Indian, 
Bill,  had  followed  him  at  the  suggestion  of  Nevada. 

"You  mining  man — I  show  you!"  said  Bill,  after 
overtaking  Ray.  The  Indian  had  been  with  the  white 
people  now  until  he  felt  more  capable  of  conversing  in 
their  language. 

He  led  the  way  to  a  ledge  that  protruded  from  the 
side  of  the  mountain  near  a  gulch.  He  pointed  to  a 
wide  seam  of  quartz  which  showed,  upon  closer  exami 
nation,  thick  clusters  of  gold.  Ray  looked  at  the  out 
cropping  with  slight  concern  for  a  moment,  and  then 
turned  and  walked  away,  shaking  his  head. 

"There  is  rich  ore  in  place,  but  what  is  gold  worth 
when  the  world  has  turned  against  you?"  he  mur 
mured.  "What  does  it  all  amount  to,  anyway?  Why 
this  joke  we  call  life?" 

When  Ray  later  returned  to  the  house  he  handed 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     305 

Mokava  some  money.  He  told  his  friend  to  give  the 
money  to  the  old  chief.  He  explained  that  the  old 
fellow  was  in  need  and  had  done  much  for  the  suf 
fering.  The  aged  man  refused  in  a  modest  manner  at 
first,  but  finally  clutched  the  money  like  a  miser.  With 
the  twenty  dollars  Ray  had  already  given  Bill,  the 
house  of  the  Chief  of  the  Land  of  Fire  was  now  richer 
than  it  had  ever  been  before. 

The  party  left  a  few  minutes  later  for  the  return 
trip  around  the  sea  of  sands.  Although  they  had 
abandoned  hope  of  finding  Tehana,  her  husband  kept  a 
steady  lookout  from  his  seat  by  the  side  of  the  chauf 
feur  for  some  trace  of  his  squaw.  When  they  came  to 
where  the  rifle  was  found  on  the  previous  trip  another 
search  was  made  at  the  request  of  Mokava,  in  which 
all  joined.  But  it  proved  fruitless.  The  sands  had 
taken  their  toll. 

But  Mokava' s  hopes  were  revived  when  they  came 
in  sight  of  his  old  house  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain. 
Night  had  just  set  in,  and  through  the  open  door  they 
saw  a  bright  light. 

"Tehana!  She  there !"  shouted  the  old  man  with 
the  delight  of  a  child. 

"Thank  heaven!"  joined  Nevada. 

But  another  disappointment  awaited  them.  When 
they  drove  in  front  of  the  place,  Grant  came  out  of 
the  house,  cautiously  and  sullen. 

"Why  you  here — where  Amosa?"  asked  Mokava. 

"Amosa  at  school,"  replied  Grant.  "I'm  tired  of 
the  place." 

The  chauffeur  offered  to  attempt  the  trip  to  camp 


306  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

that  night,  assuring  Ray  that  he  could  find  the  way, 
and  suggesting  that  it  would  be  cooler  traveling  by 
night.  But  Ray  directed  that  they  should  spend  the 
night  in  rest  and  continue  the  journey  next  day. 

But  on  the  following  morning  Grant  refused  to 
accompany  them.  He  would  look  in  the  direction  of 
the  town  of  Mokava  and  shake  his  head  negatively 
when  they  suggested  the  return.  No  persuasion  or 
threats  by  Mokava  would  change  his  mind. 

"Then  I  stay,  too,"  said  Mokava.  "One  enough  to 
lose  out  here — but  maybe  Tehana  come  yet!" 

"I  will  remain  with  them!"  affirmed  Nevada,  and 
neither  Mokava  nor  Ray  could  get  her  to  change  her 
mind. 

Robert  Ray  was  in  no  hurry  about  leaving.  He 
spent  considerable  time  arguing  with  Grant  in  the 
attempt  to  persuade  him  to  return,  but  failing,  re 
ceived  some  letters  from  Nevada  to  mail,  gave  to 
Mokava  a  roll  of  money,  over  which  the  latter  pro 
tested,  and  he  and  the  chauffeur  started  out  leisurely 
for  the  town  of  Mokava. 

"No  hurry,"  said  Ray  often  during  the  day.  "Get 
in  after  dark,  but  measure  your  time  so  as  to  arrive 
before  the  night  train  leaves." 

As  they  Vere  approaching  the  town  shortly  after 
nightfall  they  noticed  that  the  glimmer  of  a  light  shone 
only  here  and  there. 

"Oh,  that  light-plant  is  out  of  commission  again!" 
remarked  Ray. 

"There's  been  a  fire!"  exclaimed  the  chauffeur  when 
they  reached  the  main  street. 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     307 

They  stopped  the  machine  and  looked  about  into 
the  darkness.  It  was  like  the  desert  again. 

"Yes,  the  city  hall  stood  over  there,"  replied  Ray. 

"There  is  only  a  pile  of  ashes  and  the  pillars  left  of 
it  now,"  said  the  driver. 

As  they  moved  on  they  discovered  that  the  Casino 
Annex  had  also  burned.  The  old  rockhouse  and  the 
adobe  only  stood  on  the  former  site.  Then  as  they 
drove  slowly  around  the  corner  they  discovered  that 
the  bank  building  was  the  only  one  left  in  that  por 
tion  of  the  town.  Brush's  old  gambling  house  had 
perished  with  the  whole  block  in  the  flames.  The 
school  building  up  on  the  side  of  the  hill  was  missing 
from  the  sky-line. 

"Drive  near  the  old — Mooring  home,"  said  Ray. 

He  had  climbed  over  in  the  seat  with  the  driver. 
When  they  were  near  the  place  Ray  saw  a  light 
through  the  window.  He  placed  his  hand  on  the 
driver's  arm  and  stopped  him.  As  they  sat  there  in 
silence  Ray  could  hear  the  beating  of  his  own  heart. 
Then  it  leaped  with  a  heavy,  sickening  throb.  Ruby 
Mooring  passed  by  the  light  and  came  to  the  window. 
She  leaned  against  the  sash  and  looked  longingly  out 
into  the  darkness. 

Ray  crouched  down  into  the  seat.  But  again  and 
again  he  turned  his  eyes  in  the  direction  of  the  form 
at  the  window. 

Then  he  saw  her  walk  over  to  a  center  table.  She 
picked  up  a  picture.  Ray  knew  from  the  shape  of  the 
frame  that  it  was  the  picture  of  himself.  She  looked 
at  it  for  a  long  time.  Then  she  pressed  it  to  her  lips. 


308  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

"Poor  girl !"  he  said  in  thought  speech.  "I  will — 
no,  no,  no,  my  God,  I  can't!"  Turning  to  the  driver 
he  said  in  a  low  whisper :  "Crank  up  and  take  me  to 
my  room  as  quickly  as  possible !" 

Ray's  rooming-house  had  also  been  spared  by  the 
fire.  He  turned  to  the  chauffeur  when  they  reached 
the  place,  paid  him  for  the  services  of  the  trip,  and 
said  : 

"Say  nothing  of  what  you  have  seen  or  heard.  I 
shall  deem  it  a  great  favor  if  you  keep  a  still  tongue." 

"An  old  taxicab  driver  of  San  Francisco  with  eyes 
and  ears?"  replied  the  chauffeur  with  a  tone  of  in 
jury  in  his  voice.  "That  is  the  first  lesson  in  our 
work.  We  neither  see  nor  hear!  While  we  are  in 
the  employ  of  a  person  our  silence  about  his  affairs 
is  as  binding  as  that  of  a  priest  in  the  confessional. 
It  is  to  bed  with  me  just  as  soon  as  I  can  get  ready 
for  it." 

"Wait  a  minute,"  instructed  Ray.  "Go  and  ascertain 
if  Miss  Martin  is  still  here,  and  how  the  fire  started." 

The  chauffeur  entered  a  saloon  that  had  been  set 
up  in  a  tent  on  the  burnt  district,  and  after  a  few 
minutes  returned. 

"The  teacher  left  for  home  the  night  after  the  fire, 
and  Mr.  Stallings  is  taking  care  of  Miss  Mooring," 
he  explained.  "The  fire  broke  out  early  the  night  of 
the  day  we  left,  just  after  the  train  came  in." 

"Thanks,"  replied  Ray,  handing  the  chauffeur  an 
additional  sum  of  money.  "And  now  I  know  why 
Grant  refused  to  return,"  he  continued  to  himself. 

Robert  Ray  entered  his  room  quietly  and  packed 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     309 

such  of  his  belongings  as  would  go  into  his  suitcase 
conveniently,  and  which  he  thought  he  would  most 
urgently  need.  The  others  he  threw  back  into  his 
trunk.  Then  he  sat  down  and  wrote  two  letters,  look 
ing  at  his  watch  at  intervals. 

One  of  these  he  addressed  to  Horatio  Stallings. 
The  other  was  to  Ruby  Mooring.  The  latter  ran  as 
follows : 

"Dear  Ruby: — I  have  never  realized  before  that  I 
was  such  a  coward.  But  I  am  the  weakest  coward 
on  earth,  and  I  am  bound  to  confess  it.  I  have 
learned  something  that  has  killed  all  of  the  man  in 
me.  It  has  shattered  every  hope.  I  am  left  the  mere 
image  of  a  man  without  the  elements  that  go  to 
make  one. 

"I  have  pondered  over  the  matter  two  nights  and 
days  and  have  tried  to  nerve  myself  back  to  a  man 
again,  see  you  and  tell  you  what  I  am  now  about  to 
write. 

"It  seems  stranger  than  fiction.  It  is  all  stranger 
than  any  true  thing  that  ever  happened  before.  How 
will  I  begin  to  tell  you?  When  I  reached  the  new 
home  of  Mokava  I  found  Nevada  alone.  Tehana  was 
not  there  when  she  and  Mokava  arrived,  and  Mokava 
had  gone  to  search  for  her.  The  morning  after  my 
arrival  a  messenger  came  from  across  the  desert — the 
place  they  call  the  Land  of  Fire — and  said  that  Mo 
kava  was  dying  at  the  home  of  an  old  Indian  chief, 
known  as  the  Chief  of  the  Land  of  Fire. 

"I  was  so  sorry  for  Nevada  in  her  distress  that  I 
employed  the  chauffeur  to  undertake  the  journey  to 


310  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

the  bedside  of  Mokava.  We  had  an  awful  experi 
ence  on  the  way,  but  that  is  neither  here  nor  there, 
except  that  we  found  evidence  to  the  effect  that 
Tehana  had  doubtless  lost  her  life. 

"But  imagine  our  surprise  when  we  reached  the 
home  of  the  old  chief!  Steel  yourself  for  the  sad 
news!  The  man  whom  the  messenger  said  was  Mo 
kava  proved  to  be  your  father !  He  had  lost  his  way 
on  the  desert,  was  overcome  and  was  brought  in  by 
the  Indians.  Mokava  had  arrived  at  the  place 
directly  after  the  Indian  who  came  to  us  had  left,  and 
recognized  the  body  of  your  father.  He  had  died  in 
the  meantime.  Mokava  and  the  young  Indian  had 
buried  the  body  before  our  arrival.  The  weather 
was  so  warm  that  they  had  to  hurry  the  body  into 
the  ground,  although  Mokava  expected  Nevada  to 
return  with  the  Indian  messenger. 

"Before  your  father  died  he  directed  their  atten 
tion  to  that  faded  little  package  which  was  still  on 
his  person.  They  had  opened  it  and  it  contained  a 
writing.  I  am  herewith  inclosing  it.  As  you  will 
see,  his  name  was  not  Mooring,  but  Collins.  My 
God,  Ruby,  my  name  before  I  was  adopted  was  Col 
lins!  He  was  my  father,  and  you  are  my  sister! 
Poor  girl,  how  shall  we  bear  it? 

"I  had  built  up  such  hopes  since  the  night  you  con 
sented  to  be  my !  I  cannot  bear  to  look  upon 

you  as  my  sister.  I  am  such  a  coward.  I  must  run, 
run  away  and  try  to  forget!" 

Then  he  explained  about  the  old  letter  left  by  the 
mother  of  the  twins,  Mooring  and  Mokava,  which 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     311 

also  showed  conclusively  that  the  original  family  name 
had  been  Collins. 

"Now,  dear  Sister,"  he  concluded,  "be  strong, 
stronger  than  your  brother.  Forget!  I  have  written 
Mr.  Stallings  to  turn  over  what  money  I  have  left  to 
you.  I  have  sufficient  with  me  to  take  me  wherever 
I  decide  to  go.  It  may  be  to  South  America,  Mex 
ico,  Cuba — wherever  railroads  and  steamship  con 
nections  may  first  speed  the  way. 

"The  money  which  Stallings  will  turn  over  to  you 

should  keep  you  moderately  until  you marry,  at 

least.  Seek  your  mother  and  care  for  her,  too.  Our 
father  was  to  blame  for  it  all.  But  let  us  forgive 
him.  Take  Stallings'  advice  about  everything.  If 

he  were  not  quite  so  old  I  would  suggest It  is 

nearly  time  for  the  train.  I  came  after  night  so  that 
I  could  get  away  without  any  one  knowing  I  was 
here.  The  chauffeur  is  a  silent  man. 

"If  I  can  ever  forget  and  come  to  realize  that  you 
are  my  sister,  only,  I  may  try  to  find  you.  But  I 
do  not  believe  that  I  shall  ever  wish  to  see  you,  ex 
cept  as  I  see  you  in  my  mind — the  Ruby  that  said 
that  night:  'Yes,  Robert!'  It  is  one  of  those  epochs 
which  comes  once  only  in  a  man's  life,  and  it  is  hard 
to  erase  it  from  the  memory.  Good-bye !" 

When  the  engineer  blew  the  warning  signal  of  de 
parture,  Ray  grabbed  his  suitcase  and  rushed  away 
without  disturbing  any  one.  He  ran  by  the  post- 
office,  which  had  escaped  the  conflagration,  and 


312  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

dropped  the  letters  addressed  to  Ruby  and  Stallings 
into  the  mail  box. 

He  boarded  the  rear  coach  as  the  train  was  leav 
ing,  secured   a  berth   and   went  to  a   sleepless   bed. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 
THE  PROSPECTOR 

44\/T°vE    on    there,    Slim!      You,    Blackey! 
V/l      Jumbo,  are  you  trying  to    force    a    dry 
camp?     There's  a  spring  of  cool  water 
ahead,  and  a  big  feed  coming — giddap,  all  of  you!" 
The  man  wore  ten  weeks'  growth  of  beard,  and  his 
hair  hadn't  been  disturbed  by  a  barber  for  a  month 
longer.     He  was    driving    two    burros,  which  were 
heavily  packed,   and  rode  another  of  gigantic  pro 
portions.    They  were  in  a  broad,  sandy  plain.    There 
was  not  a  sprig  of  grass  so  far  as  the  eye  could  see, 
and  the  quivering  heat  glistened  white  as  isinglass 
in  the  burning  sun. 

Water?  There  had  not  been  a  sign  all  day,  save 
that  which  was  in  the  canteen  of  the  prospector,  and 
it  burned  his  lips  whenever  he  was  forced  to  take  a 
swallow.  And  that  came  pretty  often,  as  the  sun  and 
dust  were  absorbing  every  particle  of  moisture  in  his 
body. 

But  the  burros  plodded  along  as  if  they  were  sur 
feited  with  both  water  and  grass,  and  such  elements 
were  foreign  to  their  desires.  It  had  been  a  steady 
job  with  them,  but  one  to  which  they  were  accus 
tomed.  They  were  veterans  of  the  desert.  Why 
should  they  hurry?  Their  instinct  from  past  experi 
ence  told  them  to  take  their  time.  What  if  they 
should  reach  water  and  grazing  that  night?  What 


314  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

if  they  should  scent  it  or  see  it  just  ahead?  Probably 
the  following  morning  they  would  receive  a  heavier 
pack  and  start  out  again  toward  a  more  barren 
region.  Running  water  and  green  fields  were  disap 
pearing  visions  as  they  had  been  vanishing  realities. 
The  few  years  of  their  lives  had  taught  them  that 
running  water  and  green  fields  only  portended  longer 
journeys  and  heavier  burdens.  While  out  in  the 
regions  of  the  wild  there  was  rest,  often  long  rest,  if 
they  did  have  to  forage  on  dry  bunch-grass  and  drink 
slimy  alkali  water.  But  they  had  become  accus 
tomed  to  it,  and  such  fare  in  freedom  was  preferable 
to  green  grass  and  spring  water  with  the  prospect 
of  starting  out  with  burdens  that  would  almost  break 
their  backs. 

This  had  been  a  long  journey.  Spring  was  bud 
ding,  where  there  were  things  to  bud,  when  they 
started,  but  summer  was  on  now,  with  all  its  desert 
fury.  Across  the  Arizona  portion  of  the  Mohave 
desert  after  they  first  started  out ;  then  over  the  Pana- 
mints  to  Death  Valley;  there  a  long  rest — if  a  burro 
can  rest  while  he  browses  on  the  scattering  growth 
of  such  a  country,  parched  by  the  sun,  and  where  he 
has  to  wade  through  sand  dunes  at  that  for  hours 
for  every  meal,  while  he  fights  off  myriads  of  flies  that 
wait  for  him  when  he  goes  to  the  water-holes  to 
drink. 

Then,  just  when  they  had  become  accustomed  to 
this  life,  and  when  the  provisions  which  they  had 
carried  on  their  backs  for  their  master  were  about 
exhausted,  instead  of  coming  out  with  empty  packs, 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     315 

they  were  loaded  with  samples  of  ore  which  nearly 
broke  them  down,  and  had  to  struggle  along  with 
these  for  several  days  through  a  sea  of  sands  before 
they  reached  water  at  the  foot  of  a  barren  mountain. 
Here  they  had  been  given  a  night  and  day  while  their 
owner  rested. 

Then  they  climbed  out  over  the  mountain  and 
struck  out  on  the  broad  desert  again.  It  was  in  this 
seemingly  unlimited  expanse  that  they  ignored  the 
command  of  the  bewhiskered  and  travel-worn  master 
to  "giddap!" 

But  if  burros  could  talk,  and  Slim  and  Blackey 
and  Jumbo  should  each  detail  their  troubles,  they 
would  be  mere  pastime  compared  to  the  story  that 
their  master  could  tell.  With  weighted  down  heart 
already  when  he  started  out,  he  had  met  the  require 
ments  of  the  prospector's  life  on  the  trail.  He  had 
saddled  and  packed  three  burros  each  morning  while 
they  were  on  the  road.  He  had  unsaddled  and  packed 
them  again  at  noon,  and  unsaddled  and  unpacked  them 
again  at  night.  But  this  is  only  a  beginning. 

He  prepared  his  own  meals  nights  and  mornings; 
ate  stale  bread  and  raked  the  maggots  from  his  bacon 
at  noon;  made  his  bed  with  a  blanket  on  the  ground; 
watched  the  burros  throughout  the  night  to  see  that 
they  did  not  desert  him ;  kept  his  aching  body  still  for 
fear  that  any  movement  might  bring  the  fangs  of  a 
rattlesnake;  changed  hands  when  he  drank  from  his 
canteen  because  of  the  heat  of  the  tin;  swallowed 
the  water  with  wide-open  mouth  to  create  a  miniature 
process  of  cooling  by  absorption. 


316  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

Then  for  one  whole  month  he  had  drilled,  drilled, 
drilled  and  blasted  rock  alone.  The  burros  at  least 
were  company  for  each  other,  and  they  seemed  to  have 
a  way  of  communicating  among  themselves,  but  their 
owner  had  not  seen  a  living  being  with  whom  he 
could  converse;  he  had  heard  no  voice  save  his  own. 
He  was  so  lonely,  and  so  tired  of  the  monotony  of 
his  life,  and  the  company  of  his  burros,  that  the  sight 
of  a  desert  lion  or  a  skulking  coyote  was  a  relief,  and 
he  would  rather  have  made  friends  with  them  than 
harm  them.  They  were  all  out  there  on  an  equal 
footing,  each  trying  to  get  what  he  could  from  the 
great,  dry,  unyielding  desert. 

"Giddap  there,  burros,"  again  said  the  prospector 
through  force  of  habit. 

"Giddap,"  again  he  said.  But  this  time  he  had 
caught  the  sight  of  green  leaves  and  he  knew  he  was 
nearing  his  destination  for  the  day. 

"Giddap,  I  say,  burros,  don't  you  see  that  green 
over  yonder — the  broad,  green  leaves  laughing  just 
over  the  rise?  There  is  a  spring  beneath  them;  and 
green  grass  near  by,  if  I'm  not  mistaken.  Anyway, 
there  is  a  feed  for  us  all  over  there!" 

The  dust-covered  and  sweat-stained  burros  and  the 
dust-covered,  bewhiskered  prospector  plodded  on  for 
another  hour.  But  this  was  a  short  time  to  the  man. 
He  had  been  for  ten  weeks  remote  from  green  trees 
and  human  habitations — he  had  seen  them  only  in 
the  mirages  of  the  desert.  But  now  he  knew  the 
place  and  knew  that  within  a  short  time  he  would 
descend  a  hill  down  into  a  level  where  once  there  was 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     317 

a  meadow.  The  man  bent  forward  and  tried  to  urge 
the  big  burro  beneath  him  and  talked  to  the  other 
burros  more  kindly  than  he  had  for  days,  but  they 
moved  at  a  snail's  speed. 

They  came  to  a  trail  that  led  along  the  side  of  a 
barren  hill.  The  hill  was  almost  as  tall  as  the  cotton- 
wood  trees  in  the  plain  below.  The  man  stopped  the 
burro  he  was  riding  and  looked  down,  while  the  other 
two  kept  on.  An  abandoned  telephone  pole  stood  out 
alone  like  a  sentinel;  another  leaned  at  an  angle  half 
way  to  the  ground  across  the  way;  the  front  wall  of  a 
building  still  stood  near  an  old  graded  street;  the  side 
wall  of  another  building  towered  to  the  left;  portions 
of  two  walls  stood  over  to  the  right,  and  there  was  a 
window-sash  in  one  of  the  walls.  But  the  glass  was 
gone.  There  were  foundations  of  buildings  here  and 
there,  and  pieces  of  scantlings  lay  about  the  ground 
with  boards  and  planks,  all  intermingled  and  scattered 
like  debris  in  a  storm-path. 

Down  among  the  trees  there  was  a  low,  rock  house 
and  an  old  adobe  at  the  rear.  The  trail  led  to  these, 
and  the  prospector  again  urged  his  burro  forward. 
The  other  two  animals  had  preceded  them,  and  an  old 
man  with  long  whiskers  and  uncut  hair  came  out  of 
the  adobe.  He  first  scrutinized  the  burros  and  their 
packs  closely  and  then  began  to  look  about  for  their 
owner.  As  the  latter  rode  up  the  settler  greeted  him 
with  a  warm  welcome. 

"Get  off  burro  and  rest.  I  take  off  packs  for 
you." 

It  was  not  necessary  for  the  prospector  to  ask  for 
11 


318  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

permission  to  remain  over  night.  It  was  the  custom  to 
entertain  any  who  might  come  that  way  without  ques 
tion.  It  was  a  pleasure.  A  visitor  once  a  year  was 
above  the  average.  And,  besides,  it  was  a  long  dis 
tance  to  another  camping  place  where  there  was  water 
and  grass. 

While  the  elder  man  was  unpacking  the  two  burros 
in  silence  and  the  stranger  was  unpacking  his  own 
and  looking  about  the  place,  still  indulging  in  his 
habit  of  talking  low  to  himself  about  what  he  saw,  a 
young  woman  came  out  of  the  rock  house.  She  would 
have  been  taken  for  thirty,  but  she  was  much  younger. 
The  sun  had  tanned  her  face  and  arms,  and  her  dress, 
though  clean,  made  no  pretense  to  style.  She  watched 
the  two  men  in  silence  for  a  while  and  then  asked : 

"Have  you  inquired  of  the  gentleman  what  he  would 
have  for  supper,  Father?" 

"No,  I  forgot!  You  ask  him  yo'self,  Nevada,"  re 
plied  the  old  man. 

"Anything  you  have,"  interjected  the  stranger.  "I 
have  been  eating  of  my  cooking,  as  you  must  know — 
many  weeks  at  that — and  anything  that  a  woman 
should  prepare  will  be  a  treat." 

"Won't  you  suggest  something?  Father  recently 
returned  from  the  trading  post,  and,  while  our  menu 
is  not  very  large,  we  have  a  number  of  things  that  a 
traveler  on  the  desert  might  relish,"  explained  the 
woman. 

"Give  me  something  like  you  gave  the  chauffeur  and 
me  at  the  old  place,  on  the  other  side  of  the  mountain, 
about  five  years  ago,"  said  the  prospector. 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     319 

The  elder  man  stopped  unwinding  the  rope  from 
about  the  burro  and  pack  and  looked  at  the  visitor  in 
silence.  The  woman  walked  over  to  him,  and,  after  a 
moment  of  scrutiny,  she  circled  him  about  the  neck 
with  her  arms. 

"It  is  Robert,  Father — Robert  Ray!"  she  exclaimed. 

There  were  late  hours  at  the  home  of  Mokava  that 
night.  Even  Mokava  wanted  to  talk.  But  Robert 
Ray  had  so  many  pent  up  things  which  he  wanted  to 
let  out  to  human  ears,  and  wanted  to  know  so  much 
about  what  had  been  going  on  in  the  outside  world 
since  he  had  left  it,  that  he  monopolized  the  most  of 
the  evening,  with  people  that  knew  but  little  more 
about  it  than  himself.  He  wanted  to  relieve  his  soul 
of  its  overcharged  burdens;  he  wanted  to  hear  voices 
of  others.  The  solitudes  of  the  desert  had  made  him 
hungry  for  companionship,  but  he  was  hungrier  still 
for  information  that,  somehow,  he  dreaded  to  learn. 

He  had  spent  a  month  at  the  old  home  of  the  Chief 
of  the  Land  of  Fire.  He  had  found  it  abandoned.  He 
had  found  another  grave  by  the  side  of  that  of  his 
father  and  rightly  guessed  that  it  contained  the  re 
mains  of  the  ancient  settler.  He  wanted  to  know  about 

Bill  and  Tom;  Amosa  and  Grant;  Stallings  and 

Ruby.  All  of  these  subjects  he  approached  hurriedly 
until  he  came  to  ask  about  the  latter. 

"I  have  at  last  found  a  mine,"  he  had  begun.  "One 
that  needs  no  advertising  or  stock-selling.  I  had  been 
everywhere  and  had  done  about  everything.  Made  a 
stake  one  day  and  lost  it  the  next;  tried  half  a  dozen 
things,  but  eventually  failed  in  them  all;  worked  for 


320  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

wages  by  the  day,  week  and  month,  but  wound  up 
with  barely  enough  to  last  until  I  got  another  job.  A 
ledge  which  Bill  had  shown  me  near  the  home  of  his 
father  when  we  were  there  five  years  ago  haunted  me 
all  of  the  time.  I  earned  enough  to  buy  an  outfit  after 
I  returned  from  across  the  Mexican  line  and  started 
out  across  country  from  Arizona  to  the  old  home  of 
the  Chief  of  the  Land  of  Fire. 

"I  crossed  the  desert  on  the  other  side  and  circled 
the  high  mountain  in  the  rear  of  the  place  by  the  trail 
which  Bill  and  Tom  had  made  when  they  went  out  and 
brought  in  supplies.  I  intended  to  take  them  in  on 
the  claim,  but  when  I  found  they  had  gone  I  set  to 
work  alone.  I  picked  and  drilled  for  a  month,  saving 
the  high-grade  carefully  as  I  went  along.  After  satis 
fying  myself  what  a  fortune  lies  back  in  the  ledge  I 
packed  the  high-grade  on  the  burros,  posted  the  claim 
and  gave  it  the  name  of  the  'Fire  Chief  Lode/ 

"I  came  by  the  old  place  on  this  side  of  Death  Val 
ley  expecting  to  find  you  there.  But  after  finding  it 
vacant  I  rightly  guessed  that  you  moved  back  to  the 
old  home." 

"Poor  mother  was  never  heard  from  again,"  ex 
plained  Nevada,  while  her  father  was  outside  looking 
after  the  burros.  "The  burro  which  she  rode  returned 
to  this  place  later  and  we  recovered  him  after  about 
two  years." 

"When  did  you  return?"  asked  Ray. 

"Two  years  after  you  left.  Father  made  a  trip  over 
for  supplies.  The  old  route  on  the  other  side  was  so 
long  and  difficult  that  he  decided  to  try  the  town  of 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     321 

Mokava,  much  as  he  despised  the  place.  But  he  found 
when  he  arrived  here  that  there  was  no  town  and 
went  on  to  our  old  post  on  this  side  for  supplies. 
When  he  got  this  far  with  them  he  left  them  and  came 
for  me.  So  we  moved  back. 

"There  was  nothing  but  the  old  rock  house 
and  a  few  scattering  walls  of  buildings  when  we 
came,  besides  the  railroad  tracks.  But  the  railroad 
men  came  later  and  took  up  the  tracks  and  left  us  cut 
off  from  the  world  about  as  you  first  found  us,  except 
that  our  family  was  broken  up." 

"What  became  of  Bill  and  Tom?"  asked  Ray. 

"Why,  you  and  Father  spoiled  them,"  continued 
Nevada.  "That  money  you  gave  Bill  and  his  father 
turned  the  heads  of  the  young  men.  They 
had  saved  the  money  that  you  and  father 
gave  them,  and  had  the  most  of  it  when 
their  father  died.  After  his  death  they  started 
out  to  try  to  get  more.  They  had  learned  while  on  a 
trip  out  for  supplies  that  they  had  some  rights  against 
the  government.  They  went  to  the  reservation  which 
had  been  allotted  to  the  descendants  of  the  tribe  from 
which  their  father  had  descended  to  secure  their  share. 
They  never  returned.  But  on  their  way  out  they  came 
this  way  and  Grant  went  with  them.  He  was  never 
satisfied  here,  and  Father  thought  it  just  as  well  to  let 
him  go  along  with  Bill  and  Tom. 

"And  Amosa  is  married!  She  fell  in  love  with  a 
full-blooded  Indian  at  school  and  after  the  wedding 
they  went  to  his  reservation  to  live." 


322  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

"Did  you  ever  learn  what  became  of  Stallings 
and " 

"Ruby,"  interrupted  Nevada.  "Yes.  Ruby  is  mar 
ried,  too!  She  and  Mr.  Stallings  went  away  together 
on  the  last  train  that  left  the  place.  One  of  the  men 
who  came  to  help  tear  up  the  tracks  was  a  brakeman  on 
the  last  train  that  went  out,  and  he  saw  Ruby  and  Mr. 
Stallings. 

"Ruby  married  a  preacher,  a  man  much  older  than 
herself,"  continued  Nevada.  "Amosa  told  Father 
about  it.  He  went  to  Amosa' s  wedding.  I  didn't  go. 
There  would  have  been  so  much  to  explain  about  that 
Lansing  affair.  I  closed  the  engagement  with  him  in 
that  letter  you  mailed  for  me.  He  threw  up  my 
parentage  to  me,  .and  I  was  glad  to  break  with  him. 
I  didn't  care  for  him,  I  discovered,  and  besides  I  owed 
my  life  to  my  father. 

"But — I  was  talking  about  Ruby,"  she  continued, 
noting  the  impatience  on  Ray's  face.  "Amosa  told 
father  that  Ruby  and  her  husband — a  preacher — came 
to  the  Indian  school  about  a  year  after  Ruby  left 
Mokava.  Ruby  sang  at  the  service  which  her  husband 
held,  and  he  was  very  devoted  to  her.  Stubborn 
Amosa  refused  to  meet  Ruby,  though  Ruby  was 
anxious  to  talk  with  her.  Amosa  held  the  old  school 
matter  against  Ruby,  as  she  did  against  everybody  in 
Mokava.  Ruby  and  her  husband  left  the  same  day." 

"Did  you  learn  the  preacher's  name?"  asked  Ray. 

"No,  she  did  not  tell  father.  She  did  not  remember. 
So  many  preachers  visit  the  school  from  different  de 
nominations,  and  the  children  so  abhor  having  to 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     323 

listen  to  them  that  they  forget  them  very  soon.   Well, 
if  Father  isn't  dozing!" 

They  looked  up  at  the  clock. 

It  was  two  in  the  morning. 


CHAPTER  XXX 
REV.  HENRY  GWYNNE 

WHEN  Robert  Ray  left  Nevada  and  Mokava  he 
had  made  up  his  mind  to  look  for  Ruby.  The 
five  years  of  wandering  had  changed  him  in 
many  ways.  He  had  absorbed  some  of  the  hard  things 
which  he  had  encountered.  He  realized  now  that 
when  he  had  fled  from  the  meeting  with  Ruby  that 
night  on  his  return  from  Death  Valley  he  still  was  in 
his  boyish  stage.  He  thought  at  the  time,  however, 
that  he  was  a  man  in  experience.  But  the  shock  of  the 
disclosures  contained  in  John  Mooring' s  last  statement, 
and  the  hard  life  of  the  years  which  followed,  had 
brought  him  to  a  knowledge  of  the  fact  that  men  do 
not  know  when  they  have  reached  the  age  of  dis 
cretion. 

He  knew  a  lot  more  now,  it  was  true,  but  the  dread 
of  meeting  Ruby  had  never  passed.  He  could  not 
realize  that  she  was  his  sister,  even  in  the  face  of  the 
overwhelming  evidence.  He  could  not  bring  himself 
to  feel  that  they  were  from  the  same  flesh  and  blood. 
He  had  often  hoped  that  there  was  a  mistake  some 
where,  but  whenever  he  recalled  the  statement  of  his 
dying  father  and  the  other  circumstances  surrounding 
the  case  he  had  to  admit  that  there  was  no  escape  from 
it.  Neither  did  Mooring  seem  like  his  father  at  first, 
he  reasoned,  but  now  it  was  a  fact  beyond  further 
question.  It  was  quite  natural  that  Ruby  should  not 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     325 

take  her  place  in  his  heart  as  a  sister  so  quickly  after 
what  had  happened  between  them.  But  he  would  be  a 
man  now  and  go  and  seek  her  and  give  to  her  a 
brother's  protection. 

But  she  was  married,  and,  perhaps  had  children; 
and,  yet  there  was  no  absolute  certainty  of  this.  It 
had  come  through  the  gossip  of  Indian  children.  Who 
was  the  elderly  minister?  It  could  not  be  Stallings. 
It  was  thought  that  he  had  been  a  lawyer. 
According  to  the  report  from  the  Indian  school 
Ruby  had  married  a  minister  who  was  much 
older  than  herself.  She  would  not  have  been  there 
with  any  other,  and  at  the  same  time  be  devoted  to 
another  who  was  not  her  husband,  except  to  Stallings. 

After  reaching  the  railroad  he  had  put  his  burros  in 
a  pasture  and  shipped  the  high-grade  by  express  on 
the  same  train  which  he  took  for  the  smelter.  It  was 
richer  than  he  had  even  suspected.  He  had  been  led 
by  the  peculiar  circumstances  surrounding  the  death 
of  John  Mooring,  his  erring  father,  to  a  deposit  that 
would  yield  to  him  a  fortune.  He  was  not  a  believer 
in  predestination.  He  had  always  taken  a  practical 
view  of  things.  He  did  not  believe  that  fate  entered 
into  the  ordinary  things  of  life. 

Although  the  two  hundred  pounds  of  ore  which  he 
had  brought  to  the  smelter  had  been  selected,  he  knew 
that  the  run  of  the  vein  would  yield  at  least  fifty  per 
cent  as  high  as  the  picked  samples.  He  did  not  admit 
to  Nevada  and  Mokava  that  the  results  of  the  smelter 
test  would  have  a  great  deal  to  do  with  his  immediate 
plans.  He  had  exhausted  his  funds  and  did  not  know 


326  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

what  his  next  turn  would  be,  should  his  judgment  of 
the  value  of  his  mine  prove  faulty.  He  had  determined 
never  to  accept  an  accounting  from  Ruby,  married  or 
single.  He  had  wiped  out  his  account  with  the  town 
of  Mokava  and  did  not  care  to  even  know  how  it  stood. 
He  had  smiled  at  the  legend  told  by  Nevada  of  her 
father  failing  to  pay  for  his  squaw,  and  everything 
and  every  one  in  contact  with  him  being  doomed  to 
failure,  but  he  had  washed  his  hands  of  it  all,  and  did 
not  propose  to  soil  them  again  with  any  of  the  pro 
ceeds  of  the  transaction.  He  had  a  property  now  that 
would  yield  real  gold  and  it  appeared  inexhaustible. 

He  walked  away  from  the  smelter  feeling  that  he 
soon  would  be  a  rich  man.  He  was  already  rich,  for 
present  purposes,  and  knew  that  his  new  property 
would  yield  more  when  he  was  ready  to  take  it.  The 
result  of  the  reduction  by  the  smelter  had  rilled  his 
pockets  abundantly  for  present  needs. 

"First  a  visit  to  a  barber  and  a  clothier,"  he  said, 
glancing  into  a  mirror,  "and  then  the  search  for  Ruby. 
I  will  discard  my  youthful  sentiment  with  these  old 
clothes  and  hair  and  beard,  and  become  a  practical 
man.  I  shall  learn  to  like  my  elderly  brother-in-law. 
He  may  be  in  need.  Ruby  shall  never  want." 

Two  plans  for  finding  Ruby  suggested  themselves. 
If  he  could  find  Stallings,  doubtless  he  could  give  him 
the  name  of  her  husband  and  their  address.  If  he 
failed  to  find  Stallings  then  he  would  have  to  go  to  the 
Indian  school  and  try  to  secure  the  name  and  address 
of  the  minister  who  had  visited  the  school. 

He  took  rooms  at  the  hotel  where  he  and  Stallings 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     327 

had  stayed  when  they  were  on  business  for  the  bank 
ing  house  of  Mooring  &  Brush.  After  he  had  been 
transformed  from  the  desert  prospector  to  a  neatly 
dressed  mine  owner,  he  began  the  search  for  Stallings. 
The  hotel  people  nor  the  bankers  knew  nothing  of 
him.  They  had  about  forgotten  him,  except  the  bank 
remembered  that  they  had  a  block  of  Burro  Hill  stock 
that  they  had  received  through  Stallings  in  settlement 
of  claims  against  Mooring,  and  that  it  was  worthless. 
But  they  held  no  grudge  on  this  account.  It  had  been 
a  plain  business  transaction  in  which  their  judgment 
had  proved  at  fault.  Then  he  tried  the  directories,  and 
no  such  name  as  Horatio  Stallings  appeared. 

He  took  a  train  to  the  Indian  school.  Here  he  en 
countered  more  difficulty.  There  had  been  scores  of 
visits  by  ministers  of  different  denominations  who 
sought  to  establish  their  belief  with  the  Indian  pupils, 
but  no  one  remembered  either  the  date  or  name  of  the 
man  for  whom  Ray  was  searching.  Besides,  there 
had  been  changes  in  the  employes  at  the  agency  from 
time  to  time,  and  but  little  account  was  kept  of  the 
visits  of  ministers. 

Then  Robert  Ray  informed  them  that  he  knew 
Nevada  and  Amosa.  This  enlisted  interest.  A  girl 
who  had  been  a  friend  of  Amosa  now  remembered  the 
date,  by  reason  of  the  fact  that  it  was  her  birthday,  and 
Amosa  had  spoken  of  knowing  the  woman  who  had 
accompanied  the  minister.  The  superintendent  went 
to  the  records  again  and  found  that  on  that  date  the 
"Rev.  Henry  Gwynne"  had  held  services  in  the  chapel. 
Amosa's  friend  knew  that  he  was  the  man,  for  the  date 


328  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

was  right,  and  Amosa  had  spoken  of  his  companion  as 
Ruby  and  would  not  meet  her  because  she  disliked  the 
father  of  the  visitor.  But  she  could  not  describe  the 
minister,  except  that  she  remembered  that  he  was  much 
older  than  his  wife,  and  they  had  arrived  and  left  on 
the  same  day. 

Robert  Ray  returned  to  the  city  and  began  searching 
directories  for  the  name  of  the  Rev.  Henry  Gwynne. 
His  name  was  not  in  the  city  directory,  but  he  finally 
located  the  Rev.  Henry  Gwynne  as  being  a  pastor  of 
a  church  in  the  suburbs.  He  had  been  engaged  in 
traveling  missionary  work  prior  to  his  call  to  the 
charge  of  the  small  church  and  his  name  had  escaped 
the  directory.  It  was  late  in  the  evening  when  Ray 
made  this  discovery  through  the  head  officer  of  a 
church,  and  he  delayed  his  trip  to  the  suburbs  until 
the  following  afternoon. 

When  he  came  to  the  number  to  which  he  had  been 
directed  he  found  the  name  of  "Rev.  Henry  Gwynne" 
written  on  a  card  on  the  door,  and  his  cowardice  came 
back.  He  hesitated  to  ring  until  he  was  discovered  by 
a  woman  in  the  place,  and  it  was  then  too  late  to  re 
treat.  He  rang,  and  to  his  relief  a  middle-aged  woman 
came  to  the  door. 

"Is  the  Reverend  Gwynne  at  home?"  he  asked,  hesi 
tatingly. 

"No,  sir;  he  is  in  the  city — will  not  return  until 
evening,"  was  the  pleasing  reply. 

"Is  Mrs.  Gwynne  at  home?"  he  asked,  deciding  that 
it  would  be  a  good  plan  to  meet  Ruby  alone. 

"No,  sir;  neither  is  Miss  Gwynne,"  explained  the 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     329 

maid.  "Mrs.  Gwynne  is  with  her  husband,  and  Miss 
Gwynne  is  at  school — she  will  be  home  shortly  after 
three  o'clock." 

"I  will  call  again,"  explained  Ray  as  he  left  the 
place  without  giving  his  name. 

"Miss  Gwynne !"  he  soliloquized.  "At  school !  Why, 
they  couldn't  have  been  married  much  over  four 
years?  Oh,  yes;  I  see.  The  preacher  was  married 
before.  'Miss  Gwynne'  is  Ruby's  stepdaughter.  Oh,  I 
have  it  now.  I'll  go  back  after  the  stepdaughter  comes 
from  school  and  get  it  all  untangled  before  Ruby  and 
the  parson  return.  That  will  be  a  good  way  to  break 
the  ice  in  advance." 

Robert  Ray  called  again  a  little  after  four  o'clock 
and  rang  the  door  bell. 

"Miss  Gwynne  is  here  now — would  you  like  to  see 
her?"  asked  the  maid. 

"If  you  please,"  replied  Ray. 

"Then  come  in  and  be  seated.  She  has  just  come, 
and  will  be  out  in  a  few  minutes,"  she  explained, 
showing  Ray  to  a  chair. 

Robert  Ray  had  scarcely  seated  himself  when  he 
caught  a  glimpse  of  a  woman  through  a  door  which 
was  slightly  ajar.  Her  back  was  toward  him,  but  he 
recognized  her. 

"Oh,  heaven,  it  is  Ruby,  herself!"  he  said  to  him 
self.  "What  does  it  all  mean?  Miss  Gwynne — Rev. 
Gwynne  and  his  wife  in  the  city !  Has  he  just  adopted 
her  after  all?  What  has  become  of  Stallings?" 

The  old  feeling  came  over  him  again. 

"She's  my  sister!"  he  whispered. 


330  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

He  wanted  to  run  away,  but  it  was  now  too  late. 
They  would  not  understand.  They  would  think  he 
was  a  criminal  or  a  lunatic  if  he  rushed  away. 

"No,  she's  my  sister,  sister,  sister!"  he  kept  repeat 
ing  to  himself. 

Ruby  entered  the  room. 

"Why,  Robert!"  she  cried,  throwing  herself  into  his 
arms. 

"Do  not  get  excited — I  know  I  should  not  have 
come  without  first  letting  you  know !  I  did  not  intend 
to  do  so,"  he  stammered. 

"That's  all  right — I  am  so  glad  you  have  come 
at  last!  It  has  been  so  long — Father  always  said 
you  would  come,  but  he  is  so  sanguine,  you  know,  and 
has  so  much  faith  in  you,"  said  Ruby,  withdrawing 
from  his  arms  and  standing  back  at  a  distance  while 
the  blood  returned  to  her  face. 

"Your  father — faith  in  me?  I  do  not  understand — 
where  did  I  ever  meet  him?"  asked  Ray  in  a  half- 
dazed  state. 

"Here  he  comes  now — oh,  Father,  Robert  is  here!" 
she  cried,  her  eyes  filling  with  tears  of  joy. 

Robert  Ray  turned  and  saw  Horatio  Stallings  com 
ing  toward  him. 

"Where  is  Mother  and — ?"  inquired  Ruby. 

"They  stopped  for  a  moment  at  our  sick  neigh 
bor's,"  interrupted  Stallings. 

"Father,  tell  Robert,  he  doesn't  know  yet,"  smiled 
Ruby,  wiping  away  her  tears. 

"She  is  not  your  sister,  my  boy — she  is  my  daugh- 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS  331 

ter !  She  was  not  even  related  to  John  Mooring,"  ex 
plained  Stallings. 

Robert  Ray  stared  at  the  speaker  as  if  he  thought 
he  was  mocking  him.  Then  he  glanced  about  the 
room,  examining  every  detail  of  the  interior,  as  one 
would  do  if  suddenly  awakened  in  a  strange  place. 
His  eyes  fell  upon  Ruby  again.  Then  he  looked  first 
at  her  and  then  at  Stallings. 

"Can  this  be  true — is  this  true,  Ruby?"  he  finally 
asked  in  a  hollow  voice. 

"Yes,  it  is  true — all  true!"  she  exclaimed,  facing 
him  and  placing  her  hands  upon  his  shoulders. 

"Can  you  ever  forgive  me?"  he  asked. 

"I  have,  already,"  she  replied. 

"Yes,  she  has  watched  every  hour  of  the  day,  and 
into  the  night  for  you,"  replied  Stallings.  "She 
searched  the  newspapers,  looked  into  faces  on  the 
streets,  watched  arriving  and  departing  trains,  even 
looked  into  the  air,  I  believe,  for  you!  She  refused 
to  touch  a  cent  of  your  money  which  I  gave  to  her, 
and  has  taught  school,  is  teaching  now,  in  order  to 
save  it  until  you  should  come.  She  has  traveled 
about  the  country  with  me,  wherever  I  went,  hoping 
to  learn  something  of  you.  She  went  to  the  Indian 
school  with  me  a  few  years  ago  thinking  that  she 
might  get  some  news,  and  the  little  girl  of  Mokava 
snubbed  her  for  her  pains." 

"Would  you  run  the  risk  of  letting  your  daughter 
become  the  wife  of  the  son  of  John  Mooring?"  stam 
mered  Robert  Ray. 


332  THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS 

"Wait  a  minute,  they  are  coming — get  their  con 
sent,  too,"  interrupted  Ruby. 

The  woman  whom  Robert  Ray  had  known  as  Mrs. 
Annette  Mooring  came  into  the  room,  followed  by  a 
neatly  dressed  man  who  was  past  the  middle  age. 
Annette  was  much  changed  in  appearance.  She  was 
modestly  dressed,  and  her  eyes  wore  a  look  of  tender 
ness.  Her  face  was  wreathed  in  a  smile  that  comes 
only  from  a  soul  that  has  atoned.  She  ran  to  Robert 
Ray  and  placed  her  arms  about  his  neck. 

"I  might  as  well  explain  now,"  began  her  husband. 
"My  name  is  not,  and  never  was,  Horatio  Stallings. 
I  am  Henry  Gwynne.  Mooring  took  my  wife  and 
baby  from  me  while  they  were  at  a  summer  resort 
and  I  was  at  home,  a  young  minister  engaged  in  my 
work.  I  had  never  seen  him.  But  I  found  a  picture 
which  he  had  taken  of  them  at  the  seashore,  and  fol 
lowed  with  this  slender  clue  until  I  gave  up,  went 
to  the  bad  and  degenerated  into  the  Flunkey  you  first 
met  at  the  railroad  camp.  It  was  there  that  I  dis 
covered  Mooring.  It  is  a  long  story,  but  it  is  over 
now.  My  sins  and  those  of  Annette  have  been  for 
given.  I  have  forgiven  everybody  as  God  has  for 
given  me!" 

"Then  you  will  risk  your  daughter  with  the  son  of 
the  author  of  all  of  this  trouble?"  repeated  Ray. 

"Neither  was  he  your  father,"  replied  the  minister. 

Ray  looked  from  face  to  face  with  still  greater  be 
wilderment. 

"This  is  your  father,  Robert,"  continued  the  min 
ister,  pointing  to  the  man  who  had  come  into  the 


THE  TOLL  OF  THE  SANDS     333 

room  with  Ruby's  mother,  and  who  now  came  for 
ward. 

"Yes,  my  son,  but  I  did  not  desert  your  mother," 
began  the  stranger,  as  he  grasped  Ray's  hands  affec 
tionately,  "Within  the  hour  after  I  left  her  at  the 
hospital  I  was  seized  in  the  dusk  of  the  evening  near 
the  water-front  and  taken  aboard  a  ship  bound  for 
Australia,  and  was  forced  to  work  as  a  common  sailor. 
After  many  months  I  made  my  way  back  and  ascer 
tained  the  fate  of  your  mother.  I  also  learned  that 
you  had  survived,  but  could  get  no  trace  of  you  at  the 
time.  After  years  of  search  I  accidentally  met  with 
the  Reverend  Gwynne  here.  He  told  me  that  you 
were  last  seen  about  five  years  ago,  and  doubtless  was 
still  alive.  I  have  since  lived  in  his  home,  under  his 
assurance  that  you  would  some  day  return  to  Miss 
Gwynne." 

"It  is  all  true,  my  boy,"  corroborated  the  minister. 
"I  have  verified  every  detail  of  the  transaction.  It 
was  only  a  case  of  similarity  of  names  and  circum 
stances.  He  is  your  father!" 

The  eyes  of  Ray  and  Ruby  met.  He  opened  his 
arms  and  she  rushed  into  their  clasp. 


THE  END. 


32518 


$18930 


THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


